Mother Warm: Brother Series, #3

By T. Jackson King

Little Brother now has plenty of food to eat, a fine skyhouse to live in and the love of his Breed wife Sally. But memories of being abandoned at age six by his adoptive mom Mother Warm still haunt his dreams. When new info turns up that she survived the attack on her orphanage by the Church of Flesh goons, he sets out with Sally on a search across the wide expanse of continent Brasilia, on Mother’s World, seeking clues to where she went to escape the attention of Church assassins. But as they travel, Little Brother and Sally are met with deadly attacks and covert sabotage. Finally, after discovering the school where Mother Warm learned her biotech skills, Little Brother finds her family. That discovery leads to a trip deep into the jungle to find Mother Warm, a trip that ends in a final battle against an assassin who hates the psychic Talents of both Sally and Little Brother. What he discovers changes his life, his hopes and the future of Mother’s World.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T. Jackson King
• Release date: Apr 9, 2017
• ISBN: 9781545234211

T. Jackson King

T. Jackson King (Tom) is a professional archaeologist and journalist. He writes hard science fiction, anthropological scifi, dark fantasy/horror and contemporary fantasy/magic realism--but that didn't begin until he was 38. Before then, college years spent in Paris and in Tokyo led Tom into antiwar activism, hanging out with some Japanese hippies and learning how often governments lie to their citizens. The latter lesson led him and a college buddy to publish the Shinjuku Sutra English language underground tabloid in Japan in 1967. That was followed by helping shut down the UT Knoxville campus in 1968 and a bus trip to Washington D.C. for the Second March on Washington where thousands demanded an end to the Vietnam War. Temporary sanity returned when Tom worked in a radiocarbon lab at UC Riverside and earned an MA degree in archaeology from UCLA. His interests in ancient history, ancient cultures and journalism got him several government agency jobs that paid the bills, led him to roam the raw landscape of the Western United States, and helped him raise three kids. A funny thing happened on the way to normality. By the time he was 38 and doing federal arky work in Colorado, Tom's first novel STAR TRADERS was a stage play in his head that wouldn't go away. So he wrote it down. It got rejected. His next novel was published as RETREAD SHOP (Warner Books, 1988). It was off to the writing races and Tom's many voyages of imaginative discovery have led to 23 published novels, a book of poetry, and a conviction that when humans reach the stars, we will find them crowded with space-going aliens. We will be the New Kids On The Block. This theme appears in much of Tom's short fiction and novel writing. Tom lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA. His other writings can be viewed at http://www.tjacksonking.com.

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By T. Jackson King

Other King Novels

Battlecry (2017), Superguy (2016), Battlegroup (2016), Battlestar (2016), Defeat The Aliens (2016), Fight The Aliens (2016), First Contact (2015), Escape From Aliens (2015), Aliens Vs. Humans (2015), Freedom Vs. Aliens (2015), Humans Vs. Aliens (2015), Earth Vs. Aliens (2014), Genecode Illegal (2014), The Memory Singer (2014), Alien Assassin (2014), Anarchate Vigilante (2014), Galactic Vigilante (2013), Nebula Vigilante (2013), Speaker To Aliens (2013), Galactic Avatar (2013), Stellar Assassin (2013), Retread Shop (2012, 1988), Star Vigilante (2012), The Gaean Enchantment (2012), Little Brother’s World (2010), Judgment Day And Other Dreams (2009), Ancestor’s World (1996).

Dedication

To the British author Rudyard Kipling, whose India-based novel Kim has long inspired my explorations of people living within a strange universe where humans are a minority.

Acknowledgments

First, the wonderful inspiration of Robert A. Heinlein’s novel Citizen Of The Galaxy is gratefully acknowledged. Also, the tales of Andre Norton about loners in a strange universe helped greatly in the evolution of Little Brother. Second, the First Reader assistance of Paula E. Downing is much appreciated. Lastly, I thank my fellow authors in the writers groups Zenobia and Shoptalk for their support.

MOTHER WARM

© 2017 T. Jackson King

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except for brief quotations for review purposes only.

Cover design by T. Jackson King; Cover image by Aleksandar Kamasi via Dreamstime license.

First Edition

Published by T. Jackson King, Los Alamos, NM 87544

http://www.tjacksonking.com/

ISBN 10:  1-54523-421-3

ISBN 13:  978-1-54523-421-1

Printed in the United States of America

CHAPTER ONE

Little Brother knocked on the front door of Lady Melinda’s place, hoping that someone was up. It was mid-morning under the white light of Daystar. He and Sally had just landed their air car on the dirty cobblestones of Drum Street, and Sally was busy locking up the vehicle. Passersby on the flowcrete sidewalk eyed them, noticed their clean clothing, and probably figured them for a rich Commoner couple come to party at Lady Melinda’s house of entertainment. Sally climbed the steps, a happy smile on her light-brown face, her green eyes sparkling with love for Little Brother. When she reached the top step where he stood, she nodded at the still closed wooden door.

Anyone answer?

Not yet. They’re probably just getting up.

Sally put her hand in his and stood close. Well, late night work is their specialty.

He laughed, then felt her Empath’s pulse of warm good humor echo back along their ‘golden thread’ of emotional connection. It felt as nice as a warm bath and a full meal used to make him feel in the days when he’d been a poor Scavenger hunting his daily meal in the Alor City Dump on Mother's World. Now they were back in the Yoshiwara District where it had all started, a young married couple rich as the richest Breed, with terrible memories and a love that sealed them together as firmly as riveted steel. He knocked again on the door. Anyone in there? he called a bit loudly.

The scrape of leather shoes sounded on the other side of the door. Who’s there? called a voice he recognized.

Holly? Is that you, Holly?

Little Brother? she said, flinging open the door. A young woman stood before them, dressed in a nightgown and with her curly red hair held back by pins. Her sleepy eyes looked surprised.

None other, he said, hoping he could handle this situation. After all, he’d never been Holly’s boyfriend, though she had certainly set her sights on him just before he’d left to take Sally the Breed back home—only to find her parents dead and deadly foes ready to kill them both. He nodded to his partner. This is Sally, remember her?

Sally! Holly’s soprano voice squeaked high as she came fully awake and embraced Sally like a long-lost sister.

Sally’s hand left his and he realized the two women could do quite well without his stumbling help. Beyond the open door, heavier footsteps sounded as Lady Melinda herself hustled up. She wore a plain daydress, her wavy black hair was unbound, and she carried a kitchen knife in one slim hand. Just in case.

Little Brother? Melinda said, sounding surprised. She blinked long eyelashes, then broke into a wry smile.

He grinned back, feeling sudden warmth for the woman who’d sometimes fed him, sometimes given him Yell and Run jobs when he’d needed kronars, and in general been a tough but caring friend. Been a while, Lady Melinda.

The older woman nodded matter-of-factly. Two months or more. She eyed Sally and Holly, who now stood arm-in-arm. "Senhora Sally, I’m surprised to see you back here. And dressed so nicely. Did you get home all right?"

Sally stepped away from Holly, put her arm around his, and smiled softly. Little Brother is my home now. We’re married. Holly looked briefly surprised, then sighed wistfully. Sally reached up and touched the golden lifering dangling from her right ear. See my earring?

Melinda’s wry grin turned honestly happy, even though her puzzlement remained. The woman looked behind Little Brother. And you ride an air car too. My, oh my. Your parents must be rich Commoners.

Sally squeezed his arm. They were, she said sadly, her mood sobering. They’re dead. Now I’m an orphan, like Little Brother. Melinda’s light-brown face showed sudden sympathy, the kind of honest caring that didn’t need a pile of kronars to command.

Oh, you poor girl, Melinda said.

Sally shrugged her narrow shoulders, throwing off the sadness. But we’re also rich. Can we come in?

Melinda looked suddenly startled, as if she’d forgotten the four of them still stood on her front stoop, while below them passed the sparse sidewalk traffic of a mid-week morning in the Dangerous District. Little Brother did not turn and look, but his hearing had already spotted two Lurkers drawn by the sudden appearance of a silvery air car and richly-dressed Commoners, on a street better known for its cachaca rum bars, its Cool sniff joints, and especially Lady Melinda’s house of entertainment. Her girls were clean, reasonably well fed, and they didn’t roll you in your sleep. The mistress of the house nodded abruptly.

Of course you can come in, she said, her face flushing with embarrassment. My apologies. Melinda motioned them inside.

He waited for Sally and Holly to enter, then looked out at Drum Street, sparing a special ‘look’ for the young Lurkers who eyed them from a dark alleyway. The two acted startled, then disappeared suddenly. Little Brother turned away, closed the door and came face-to-face with a watchful Lady Melinda.

My. Able to scare off Lurkers with just a look, huh? She eyed his rich clothing of fine-woven shirt and pants, his extra-large boots, and the way he kept his hand in his right pocket. That takes more than the extra twenty pounds you’ve put on since I last saw you. Though the muscles are impressive, she said dryly, eyeing his bicep.

Little Brother felt his face grow warm. Just lucky. He turned and followed quickly after Holly and Sally, wishing the ground floor of Lady Melinda’s place could be crowded with customers, that Madame Rubia’s massage stall would be open, and that he could just stroll in, enjoy a massage, and relax with a drink and a smoke. Like old times. Before he’d learned why he’d been born without a GeneCode tattoo on his right wrist—the only person in the Dump and the Yosh to lack his society’s marker of intelligence and work suitability. Back then, he’d thought himself rich whenever he could afford a bath, a massage and a smoke.

Sally stopped before the empty massage stall, then looked to him with a mischievous grin. Little Brother? Do you tell her or do I?

His ears burned and he just wished it were over, this being on stage before people. It still felt strange to be rich, and being back in the Yosh reminded him of things he’d left behind. Holly eyed him and Sally with inquisitive green eyes. Melinda stood next to her youngest girl, a patient look on her face. No one else was up and the large house seemed unusually quiet. Sally pulsed a sense of bemusement at him. He started, then flushed again. Uh, well . . .

Lady Melinda looked from Little Brother to Sally, a mature look full of hard-headed practicality. If this concerns business matters, perhaps we should chat in my roomsuite. Holly, you can go back to sleep if you want.

Curvaceous Holly frowned, then winked at Little Brother's Breed lover. "Sally, you don’t leave here before you tell me all about how you got this Scavenger to commit to marriage. He was always too fast on his feet for me."

Sally grinned. Well, I’ve got a line on him he can’t unloose.

Melinda looked intrigued, Holly curious. But then the redhead yawned and headed up the stairs, aiming for her room and much needed sleep. Lady Melinda noticed their sudden quietness and turned to follow Holly up the stairs. Come along, you two. Elizondo didn’t sleep over last night, so my place is only half-messy.

Little Brother took Sally’s warm hand and followed her up the wide, formal escada staircase that led to the second floor.

At the end of the upstairs hallway they entered Melinda’s roomsuite, a place for meeting customers, that held a workdesk and chairs in the main room, with frilly curtains on the windows. The side door to her bedroom stood open, showing a rumpled quilt on her large bed, a makeup dresser and a wooden floor carpeted in blue throw-rugs. Melinda sat down behind her desk, folded slim hands in her lap, and waited for them to sit opposite her.

Little Brother and Sally sat down in the guest chairs, their hands parting as his love smoothed at her long-sleeved dress of rainbow colors. Sally folded her hands and met Melinda’s expectant gaze. Lady Melinda, we—

Call me Melinda, please. The older woman relaxed back in her leather-padded chair, her dark-brown eyes twinkling with good humor. She glanced at him. And you, Little Brother, you can stop tensing and fidgeting over there. I’m not going to bite.

He withdrew his hand from his pocket. Sorry.

Melinda faced Sally, the ready-for-business expression returning to her attractive face. "Senhora Sally, you have business for me?"

Sally’s face brightened with happy excitement. Actually, it’s more along the lines of a partnership. She brushed back her spiky red hair, smoothed at her rainbow-colored dress, and blinked at Melinda. You interested?

Melinda glanced quickly at Little Brother, frowned slightly, then faced Sally. He’s gotten better with that straight face look—though I’ve rarely seen him blush so much. Course, regular sex can do that to a man.

He told himself that no way would he give Melinda the satisfaction of confirming her suspicions. Instead, he chose to poke back at her, the way Sally the Breed had taught him when they’d first gone on the run. Melinda, you really are prettier without all that rouge and the purple contacts. Customers don’t need to see what they expect to see.

Melinda eyed him coolly. I know my customers better than you do, young man. She faced back to Sally, black eyebrows lifting. What kind of partnership?

Sally had been holding back her surprise for so long she was nearly ready to burst. She grinned wildly. How about opening a hostelry and restaurant in the uplands, near the Purple Mountains?

Melinda’s eyes lit up and sudden joy filled her face. Then she shut it off, always the sharp-minded business woman who’d run her house of entertainment in the poorest sector of the Yoshiwara District, run it for twenty years despite Church raids, payoffs to Don Jasidro the Schemer, and the ebbs and flows of local poverty. She looked intently at Sally. I’d love to open my own hostelry, for rich Commoner merchants in need of a countryside vacation. As Little Brother no doubt told you. But that’s a long-term plan. Takes a lot of kronars to do something like that.

Sally nodded, her expression warm and caring. I’ve got lots of kronars.

Melinda sucked in her breath, then turned to him. Little Brother, this a scam or something?

He shook his head firmly. No way! It’s for real. Her parents were rich. She inherited their wealth. Melinda’s appraising look bored into him. He gulped. "So am I. Got my own cafe bean plantation in the aruacaria uplands, not far from Dorf. Thought I . . . well, I like you. Melinda’s expression softened. You were always nice to me, when I had nothing. Sally and I, we’ve been to the strangest places, but when we found this plantation we knew it would be a good place for your hostelry."

Melinda bit her lip and sat forward, eyes downcast. She toyed with a glass paperweight on her desktop. Then she turned to Sally. Only the jerkiness of her head movement told him that she believed. She believed him and believed that her dream, her hope of escaping the hard work she did to put food on the table and a roof over her head, might now come true. Sally the Empath felt his sharp emotions, and those of Melinda, which she also picked up. She leaned forward suddenly, reaching her hand out to touch Melinda’s wrist.

Melinda, I’d love to make you happy.

The older woman locked eyes with his love, the young woman who did not care that he was just a Commoner with no genecode on his right wrist, while she was a genengineered Breed, someone born to better health, better schooling, and all the power and wealth that came from a Clan family that had been business partners with every Viceroy of the Empire of Flesh for the last three centuries. Melinda saw Sally’s goodness and believed. My, oh my. Really?

Sally nodded eagerly, her red hair tumbling wildly. "Yes! Oh, yes! Our plantation is near the cha plantation of our friends, the Romualdos, and it’s so large. There’s plenty of space in the Big House for you to use as guest rooms. And our caretakers, the Pereira de Souzas, they’re the nicest—"

Melinda held up her free hand. Hold on! Sally stopped her avalanche of words. The older woman looked down to where Sally’s slim brown fingers touched her wrist, seemed to focus on the long sleeve that covered Sally’s right arm to well below the wrist, then she looked to him. Little Brother, what’s going on here?

Ahhh. Melinda was as good as Maurice in her ability to read a situation, then figure out who to trust and who to kill. "Honest. We do own a cafe plantation, in the uplands. We’re now rich. And we . . . well, I wanted to make you happy. Wanted to make your dream come true. And Sally wants the same. She remembers how you gave her refuge when we were running from Yaz."

Melinda looked deeply touched, then she smiled uncertainly. In our world, you don’t get something for nothing. You know that, Little Brother. So where’s the catch?

Sally seemed to understand the problem as soon as he did. She patted Melinda’s hand, her expression earnest. Melinda, good Melinda, you’re exactly right. Yes, nothing in life is free. Not even the love of my life. She smiled reassuringly at him, her pulse of love something that nearly melted him, then she faced back to Melinda. Who’d not missed one bit of their silent interaction. Sally let go the woman’s hand and sat back in her chair. That’s why I’m proposing a partnership. We own the property. We pay for the room modifications and kitchen expansion. You hire the girls you need to help you. And we split the profits fifty-fifty.

Melinda grimaced. I’m no fool, girlie. Won’t be no profits for the first two years. That’s the way business is.

Sally looked aside to him, her expression frustrated as she ran smack into Melinda’s well-known hard-headedness. Little Brother?

Feeling nervous, he patted at the bulge in his pants pocket. Melinda noticed. She pointed at his pocket.

That a weapon, young man?

It is.

Melinda frowned, her irritation more that of a person who prefers the courtesy of knowing a guest is armed before inviting him into her house. Show me.

He pulled out his hand beamer, holding the teardrop-shaped weapon in the palm of his hand. It’s not powered On.

Melinda looked surprised. A beamer! She blinked, then looked him up and down with a sharp, appraising glance. "Why are you carrying a beamer? It’s unlikely anyone will jump you this early in the day."

"To protect her." Little Brother repocketed his weapon and looked to Sally, pulsing to her a questioning feeling. He did it poorly, not being an Empath. Still, they had their emotion-thread, a permanent link gained through the terrible battles they’d fought against the assassins who would have killed them both. And in the jungles of the selva, on the far side of the Purple Mountains, they’d discovered his other Talent, his fade-out ability. He’d always had a Talent for sensing impending danger. Now, at the cost of great physical strain and exhaustion, he could . . . disappear from casual view. It was not a thing to discuss openly, much less a thing to do unless absolutely needed. Fortunately, Sally’s natural friendliness and her Empath Talent for reading the emotions of others gave them an edge in any situation.

Except for now, when he wondered what truth to tell Lady Melinda, what lies to invent, and how much he could trust this woman who’d been the nearest thing to a friend he’d ever known. A warm and caring friend, someone who understood about his need for street honor, his need to earn his own way, and his uncertainty about whether he’d make love the right way, first time out. Sally smiled at him, then nodded her consent to whatever he decided. He looked back to Melinda, who’d not missed one moment of their byplay.

Well, Scavenger? Why does she need such extreme protection?

Little Brother looked aside. Sally, roll up your sleeve and show her your wrist.

Melinda switched her intent gaze to Sally. His love shrugged nonchalantly, lifted her right wrist, and peeled back the dress sleeve. In the room’s glowlight, a blue tattoo showed. A tattoo of sixteen digits, five letters and an icon that represented her family Clan. Melinda looked shocked.

A Breed! You’re a Breed!

Sally rolled her sleeve back down, then nodded calmly. Yes, I’m a Breed. Married by our mutual pledge to a Commoner. And I want to be your partner in this hostelry. You willing?

Melinda’s mouth opened, shut, opened again, then she turned suddenly on Little Brother, her look fierce. You knew this when you came here with her, didn’t you!

Oh oh. I did. Melinda glared even more at him, clearly upset over his withholding of information that could have caused a Church or Viceroy raid on her place of business. That was the secret that was bothering me. On the front steps. Remember?

Melinda’s scowl eased. Sitting back in her chair she rubbed at her eyes, massaged her temples, then folded hands in her lap. Well, that explains the beamer. Nothing like walking around with a vault full of kronars—in the Flesh, so to speak. Her tone was sour, but her eyes held sympathy when she looked to Sally. Girl, do you realize how lucky you were to make it out of this District alive?

Sally nodded jerkily. I do. Dark worry showed in her eyes. Does it, does it bother you? That I’m a Breed?

Melinda looked puzzled a moment, then brightened. Oh! Of course not, young woman. She grinned wryly now, as if all was forgiven. Figured you for a quality person the first time I met you. Knew it later, when you said thanks and told me I had a nice place. Just didn’t expect . . .

Sally smiled tentatively. Didn’t expect to have your dreams come true?

Open joy now filled Melinda’s face. Not really, she husked. Well, that explains why you two had to go on the run. What business were your parents in?

Sally blinked, as if she were going to cry, then she looked down. My father . . . he was a partner in Alejandro, Mestizo and Jacaranda, importers of foreign goods, and merchants with offices—

In every large town of Brasilia continent, Melinda finished calmly. The older woman seemed to regain her business persona. "So, Senhora Sally, I believe you. You want a partner to open a hostelry at this cafe plantation of yours, in the uplands? Well, I accept."

Sally looked up, surprised joy on her face. Really?

Little Brother reached out, taking Sally’s hand in his. She turned to him, her expression that of the nearly sixteen years old woman she was, not the tough scrapper she’d become as they fought their way to freedom across half a continent. Amor, she believes. You’ve done good.

Sally’s youthful uncertainty eased and she lifted his fingers to her lips. Amor. She smiled sunbright.

Melinda coughed. When you two are done indulging the hormones, maybe we can discuss the drawing up of the contract?

Sally gave him a dimpled smile, then turned to the mistress of the house. Of course, Lady Melinda. My father trained me in the Law of Manu, and—

He tuned out.

Little Brother sat back in the chair as the two women talked excitedly, laying plans for Melinda’s hostelry, discussing how to leave her house of entertainment in the hands of her senior girl, a woman years older than Holly who had a head for business and the no-nonsense attitude you needed in a place like the Yosh. He felt certain that Melinda would keep Sally’s identity as a Breed a secret. In their world, Breeds did not mix in public with Commoners, and no Breed had ever walked openly the streets of the Yoshiwara. With their fine clothes and shiny air car, they would be taken for rich Commoners with a limited genecode, perhaps the children of indulgent merchants who didn’t mind what games their offspring played. To be known for who they really were, as a Breed and a Commoner out to change their world, that would be very dangerous, even with the beamer he carried. Then the entire world would pay attention to them and every step would be as perilous as market day in the Yosh.

He grinned to himself, recalling old times when he’d done Bumps and Runs on Servants come from the Breed Compound in downtown Alor City, Commoner people who walked the streets of the Yosh without looking where they put their feet. Often they stepped in the open sewer that ran down the middle of every street, their surprise a moment when a fast-moving Scavenger could run up, grab a purse full of kronars, and race away into the thick crowds of shabbily-dressed Commoners who actually lived in the Yoshiwara District. Course, he’d always had to pay Maurice the Fence his cut of such earnings. It was the way of the world. Scavengers found what they could in the Dump and the streets, Lurkers visited shop owners at night and left with valuables in hand, Fences sold the stolen goods, Fighters enforced any street justice someone needed, and one Schemer ruled over them all—Don Jasidro.

He would have to pay his respects to Maurice, and to Jasidro, very soon. No doubt they were both aware of rich visitors to Lady Melinda’s. And no doubt Maurice, his Fence with one good eye, a greasy mustache and a club foot, would now expect his former Scavenger to visit his shop on Valuta Street. His and Sally’s last visit had resulted in a Deal that had paid for Maurice’s new tooth implants, at the Old Town Hospital. And knowing that Sally was a Breed, Maurice would surely hope for new business from them. Little Brother did not plan to disappoint his mentor. He just hoped they could enjoy this visit back to his old neighborhood without some new danger turning up. He and Sally were tired of running for their lives.

––––––––

Two hours later, Little Brother and Sally left Lady Melinda’s place in a flurry of hugs and waves, with the promise to return and stay the night. Melinda had insisted, Sally had agreed and anyway, he had business to tend to, here in the Yosh. As he drove the air car down Drum Street’s cobblestones, with Sally sitting quietly to his right, he moved the steering yoke to pass around a Tremble addict peeing in the mid-street gutter. Then he slowed to let a horse-drawn wagon pass from one alley to another. All the while he ignored covetous looks from dayhire doorguards standing outside the bars, second-hand stores and foodshops that managed to do business in a place known elsewhere as the Dangerous District. He let his mental autopilot pick the route to Maurice’s shop on Valuta Street, on the far side of Begum Square. But it felt strange to drive there, rather than walk barefoot. The air inside the air car smelled clean and dry, not urine-tainted, while the car’s belly jets blasted away trash lying on the street, and the soft comfort of the seat cushions felt . . . unnatural. He sighed.

Sally eyed him. Problem?

Feel funny.

Her answering emotion-pulse was reassuring. You’re safe. We’re both rich. Nobody’s trying to kill us, now that the Emperor has lifted the warrant for your arrest. Not even the Church of The Flesh.

He grinned sourly. Yeah.

In the corner of his eye, Sally looked puzzled. Little Brother glanced away from the street, smiling so she would not worry. "I’m doing bueno. Don’t worry." He turned back to his driving, noticed they now passed through a section of the Yosh where he’d not been in a long while, and slowed the car.

Sally had tensed when he reassured her, or so he felt along their ‘golden thread’, that link forged in the cold peaks of the Purple Mountains when they’d first bonded emotionally. That’s garbage. You can’t fool an Empath, my love. But thanks for the effort. She looked away and peered out the tinted windshield of the air car. Is this the way to Maurice’s?

He blinked, felt strange—as if he time-traveled or were going sleepy-dreamy—then he recognized the neighborhood. A chill ran down his spine. Uh, not really. Little Brother pulled the air car up against the flowcrete sidewalk and stared at a weed-filled, trash-scattered lot, a piece of land lying between two run-down apartment blocks. The chill of recognition swept over him like a river running at full torrent. Distantly, over their emotion-link, Sally’s worry for him glowed like the embers of a firepit.

Little Brother? A hand gripped his right wrist. Her hand. Warm it was. Warm as the night when—

Look at me!

He shuddered and faced Sally. She now stared at him with a tough, determined look, and her green eyes nearly glowed with the force of her concern for him. It’s nothing.

Garbage! She looked puzzled. Are we in danger? Is something bad going to happen?

Little Brother reached up and rubbed at his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. But no sign of the hair-standing-on-end that was his Talent warning of imminent danger. No gut-wrenching nausea. And no ringing in