Authors: Pamela Foland
“So, Annette, how are things going?” Angela asked lowering herself to the mat beside the girl.
“They are moving quickly,” Annette answered.
Angela looked the girl over, still having trouble seeing the concealed potential within. “Not too quickly, I hope,” Angela felt a flare of panic on the heels of her words. Angela wondered whether the panic was over speed of things, or if it was something else, the girl was just so amazingly difficult to read.
“No, I’ll be fine,” Annette glanced up from her lap briefly making eye contact with Angela before letting her eyes fall back towards her lap.
“Would she be fine? Or would she crack under the pressure?” Angela asked herself in thought. Annette’s panic flared again. Hesitantly Angela’s gut wanted to associate the girl’s panic with her own thoughts. If the girl was a strong enough telepath to read Angela’s mind, she was galaxies away from being the telepathetic weakling Sinclair had described. Angela pulled out her pop-pad and brought up all the information she had on the girl.
All of the test results and records she had, not to mention the girls own self introduction described her as a non-telepathic hominid of mostly human extraction. At the bottom of the file was a small tag that indicated Tina had performed a molecular cytoplasmic scan yesterday and that the results were pending. Angela didn’t know details, but she did know that a molecular cytoplasmic scan was so complicated and took so long for the technicians and computers to process that Tina wouldn’t have done one lightly. That meant something about Annette had drawn Tina’s curiosity.
Angela had learned to trust her cousin’s medical instincts, as had nearly everyone else in Sanctuary.
Another thing Angela had learned, the hard way from her cousin, was that it was possible for the potential of an incredibly powerful telepath to be hidden within a child with no apparent abilities. She made mental note to have Tina begin running regular Everett scans to follow the girl’s telepathic potential.
Angela marveled. Annette looked so small and weak, and was so nearly forgettable. Could there really be someone strong, self assured and intelligent hiding in that plain wrapper? She was so young! Then again, her youth was what had drawn Angela to visit Annette this morning. Angela thought about their first meeting. The girl had wanted to be a factor so much that, as Niri had once put it, Angela could taste it. Now Angela saw the possibility of untold hidden potential. If Angela hadn’t had the strange urge to look at herself in the mirror, she might not have come to understand so much about Annette.
Not for the first time Angela contemplated the idea that her life wasn’t guided by fortuitous coincidence but by some sort of benevolent consciousness.
Angela looked at the girl again, and noticed clear agitation. The girl knew Angela held her dreams in her hands, and Angela’s too intense interest was leaving the girl thinking the worst.
Beside them Niri was coming to the end of her messages and slowly pulling herself together to address Angela again, to Angela’s dread. Suddenly possessed of the idea that she’d seen what she’d come to see, Angela decided it was time to go, “Niri, thanks for your time, I think I’ve seen what I needed to.” Angela offered a hand and Niri shook it. Before Niri could attempt to resuscitate the conversation, Angela fled.
- - - - - - - - - -
Max slammed his locker and sat on the bench running down the center of the room. He looked at the paperwork on his next assignment and sighed heavily. He was supposed to act as a bodyguard and galactic liaison for an heir to the Tanerian throne while she took a pilgrimage to earth. It was simple babysitting duty, and from what the paperwork implied, it was likely to be uneventful. Forty-three other women had to die before this girl would even get half a chance of inheriting the throne from her mother, and even then the chances were slim. She would have to be the luckiest of her five litter sisters, all of which had at least twice the potential. Max had to wonder why the council would even assign a catalyst.
The worst that might happen would be a serious breach of moral etiquette, like the girl getting arrested for indecent exposure or propositioning the wrong person. That was probably it. Several factions were lobbying the council on the issue of revealing galactic society to humans, and the kind of uproar the girl’s behavior might cause would reduce the likelihood of a successful council initiative.
Max the babysitter to the rescue. He sighed again and dug through the envelope pulling out the pay statement. That made him want to cry. Even with the overtime he would draw looking after the girl, he still probably could not afford a premature buyout of his contract. All he could do was pay his bills and expenses. Max had spent five years in training, to become a certified, card-carrying catalyst.
His family wasn’t rich. They weren’t even able to help pay for the training. So now here he was halfway through the time he had contracted to the council in exchange for that training. Five more years of minimal pay and lousy hours before he could even seriously consider going freelance, with the increased freedom that would imply. Then he could pick and choose his assignments.
He could even choose not to work.
Max sighed again; he could quit. All he had to do was walk into the office and hand the boss back the orders.
He could get by on what little he had saved, until he could find other work. It wouldn’t pay as well, but at least he wouldn’t have to deal with a sex-crazed dilettante who’s only real goal is probably to flash her boobs at Mickey Mouse. Max felt a tension headache building at the thought.
He could quit and find another line of work, but he loved being a catalyst. It had been his dream since he was a child. All he ever wanted was to make other people safe.
That last job, where he’d saved those future scientists, had been what he signed up for. He hadn’t signed up to defend the earth from rampant Tanerian hormones!
The thought of rampant hormones brought back to mind the Agurian girl he’d made contact with on his last two assignments. Yllera Vllett, he rolled her name around in his mind. It was just so Agurian. The thought of her brought a smile to his face. There was just something about her. She wasn’t really beautiful, at least not in the conventional way, but she had something he just couldn’t shake. It was probably just time for his hormones to flare up again. He was approaching thirty fast, and still hadn’t formed a pairbond. While mostly briaunti, his lineage was far from pedigreed. Somewhere in his mixed genetic heritage his parents each claimed some Agurian, but then they claimed a lot of things. Maybe that minute Agurian ancestry was enough to set his nose to declaring her an adequate genetic match.
He shook his head, it didn’t feel like the usual driving lust which he only barely ever kept under control.
Suddenly he remembered she wasn’t just a pretty face. She was a factor and that was perhaps the answer to his dilemma. Max smiled again and opened his locker. He pulled out the communications pad Yllera’s supervisor had given him and tapped the screen.
An unfamiliar male face appeared on the screen, “Hello, sir, how may I direct your call?” The man seemed bored with his job.
“I’m a contract bound catalyst, and I’m thinking of quitting my job. How does one become a factor, and how long would my training contract be?” Max asked.
“One, moment, I’ll connect you with factor training,” The man’s hand rose and filled the screen before it flickered to a written, “please wait,” message. Max felt a surge of hesitation as he waited.
Shortly another face filled the screen. , “Hello, my name is Sinclair Chavez, I’m the head of factor training. I hear you’re interested in becoming a factor. We have certain standards which must be met but we welcome all applicants,”
The man’s voice was full of false cheer, and Max had the sinking suspicion he was dealing with a recording. The suspicion quickly panned out as the screen went from showing the man’s face to a menu, “If you would like to arrange for testing please tap
>
testing center’. If you would like information on our standards please tap
>
records department’. If you have a factor sponsor please tap
>
sponsorship’. If you need additional help tap
>
assistance’.”
Max almost deactivated the pad, instead he tapped assistance. It was almost a minute before the face of a clearly busy woman appeared on the screen. “I’m here,” She said before she even glanced at her pad, then when she did, “Who are you?”
“Max Xandari, I’m a catalyst thinking of becoming a factor,” He answered.
The woman grimaced, “Let me guess, you tapped
>
assistance’,” the woman shook her head and mumbled softly, “That son of a . . . I’m in charge of everything he doesn’t want to deal with but far be it from me to have a clue about who should or shouldn’t be a factor.” Max felt uncomfortably like he’d been drawn inadvertently into the middle of an argument.
The woman sighed and focused on his face again, “I’m sorry for that outburst, Max. You don’t deserve that. I’ll arrange to transport you here if you like. If you’re a catalyst, I don’t see why you couldn’t make the transition easily. I can arrange for your pad to transport you to Sanctuary immediately if you’d like. You could look around, see the training facilities and talk to some of our people. That should help you decide.”
“I’m pretty well decided. I just have a few questions, ah, um, Miss,” He responded.
“Oh, my name is Niri Everett, and I think I can answer some of your questions before you ask. Factors don’t receive any sort of salary. We operate under a system of allotments. Every resident of Sanctuary receives a minimum allotment, providing the necessities, clothing, food, and quarters. People with jobs or in some kind of vocational training receive a larger allotment. Factors receive the largest allotments allowing for large quarters, and pretty unlimited food and clothing choices, and all reasonable field expenses are covered. We may not pay but we do take good care of our people. That includes state of the art medical facilities.
The family and friends of factors are welcome and receive augmented allotments. That’s the main stuff, what else do you need to know?”
“I just want to clarify a few things. You don’t generally assign people to baby-sit Tanerian princesses, do you? Do you provide moving expenses?” Max asked, liking what he heard.
“No, and we can make arrangements,” Niri answered, “I have a couple questions for you. How much longer is your council contract?”
“Five years, but there’s no problem with my resigning. I’ve served the bare minimum for repayment. What’s left is the gravy years that would get me my freelance license.”
Niri smiled and nodded, “Why did you get into catalyst work?”
“To protect and serve, that was a while ago, way before they chose questionable uses of my time,” Max answered.
Niri smirked and nodded knowingly, “Ah, the Tanerian princess, nuff said. How did you hear about us?”
“One of your Agurian factors was involved in a few of my recent assignments, Yllera Vllett,” Max answered.
“Oh, you know Yllera, she’s a good kid. Do you want to let her know you’re coming? I can put us on three way,” Niri offered.
Max considered it; Yllera was a large part of his willingness. Then again, surprising her with a completed fact might be fun. She was so pretty when she was surprised. “No, I’d rather tell her when I’m sure it’s going to work out.”
Niri’s smile widened, “Sure, I’ll set up transport.”
“Give me a few minutes,” Max sat down the pad, and picked up the file. This was going to be fun.
- - - - - - - - - -
Annette woke up, ready to go back to bed. In the last few weeks she’d readjusted to waking at around five-thirty, but that was the only thing that had completely returned to normal. Annette climbed out of bed, yawning. Everything was sore from her day of endurance training yesterday. She knew the muscle aches would subside with exercise so Annette did a warm up stretch which blended into the complicated exercise routine Niri had tailored specifically to increase Annette’s strength and endurance. Even with the stretches, her muscles still gave a slight objection to yesterday. It was enough that Annette didn’t look forward to the evening run