The Mutant Season

  “Ms. Greenberg, the armed forces of the world have been courting mutants ever since we revealed ourselves,” James Ryton said. “How many secret police services would benefit from the talents of our best clairaudients? How many guerilla wars would be affected by telekinetic intervention? At the moment, our skills are too unreliable to interest the military. But a mutant with enhanced abilities would draw a lot of government attention—you can bet on it. Such a being could be marvelous—or a danger to all humankind. And you’ve had firsthand experience of how violently some normals react to regular mutants. Imagine the public outcry over enhanced mutants.”

  “Well,” Andie said, “why not approach the federal government about your concerns?”

  “We’d hoped that the Brazilian investigation would yield official results which we could use as an opening. But Jacobsen’s death has deflected our attention—and the government’s.”

  Andie nodded. “That’s true. It’ll take years for them to make any further queries. It’s a dead issue in Congress.”

  “And possibly a factor in the assassination,” Skerry said. “Which means that we can’t afford to draw further attention to this.” He took a sip of tea from an old blue mug.

  “He’s right. We must conduct our own investigation first,” Halden said. “Surely there are several among us who are qualified. Dr. Lagnin is on sabbatical from Stanford. And Christopher Ruschas runs his own genetics lab in Berkeley. There are a few others. With your assistance, Ms. Greenberg, we’ll follow the trail of the congressional investigation.”

  “You’ve got it,” Andie said, smiling.

  “Skerry, we may need you for this.”

  “I don’t know, Halden. I like to operate on my own.”

  Andie felt like kicking him. Hadn’t he gotten them all involved in this? And now he wanted to pull out?

  “Well, try to overcome your natural aversion for our sake,” Halden said sarcastically. “If you’re not concerned, what are you doing here?”

  He shrugged. “Come to visit my old man in the mutant bughouse.”

  Halden pursed his lips. “It’s about time you went to see your father.”

  “For all the good it does him. They’ve got him so doped up he doesn’t know himself.”

  “Until we find a means for dealing with the mental flares, when they reach a terminal point, sedatives are the only way we have of controlling the pain.”

  “How about euthanasia?”

  Halden crossed his arms. “We’re really getting off the subject here. Skerry, we’d like you to be part of the team. If you want some time to decide, just let me know. But with or without you, we will proceed.”

  Andie watched the byplay, fascinated. Mental flares? She’d have to ask Skerry about those.

  “The next issue is, of course, the assassination investigation,” Halden said. “We still don’t know who the assassin was working for, or what killed him. It’s been over a week since Jacobsen was murdered.”

  “Halden, working through official lines to get this information seems to get us nowhere,” Michael Ryton said. “Maybe it’s time to use unofficial means.”

  “What do you suggest? That we march in and demand information?”

  “Why not? Is it better to just sit back and let our leaders be killed?” Several clan members nodded, and a few shouted their agreement.

  Andie looked around the room apprehensively. Were they all glaring at her? The mood was turning ugly.

  “Michael, you’re speaking out of anger,” Halden said. “I understand how you feel. But we must proceed cautiously. Of course we’ll conduct our own investigation into Jacobsen’s death. But I propose we discuss who to support as her successor before I talk to Governor Akins in Oregon.”

  “And I propose that Ms. Greenberg await us upstairs,” Zenora said. “What she’s had to share was interesting, but I don’t see that the rest of this meeting concerns her.”

  Andie shrank from the hostility in the woman’s voice. This large, dark mutant woman bristled with irritation.

  “I don’t wish to intrude,” Andie said. “Excuse me.” She walked up the stairs, shutting the door behind her.

  “Zenora, when will you learn to control your temper?” Halden asked, his voice harsh.

  She glared at her husband. “I’m not interested in having Skerry’s normal girlfriends intrude upon our private concerns.”

  Michael felt embarrassed for her. He’d never seen Zenora so irritable before. Was she starting to get mental flares too?

  “Let’s get on to Jacobsen’s successor,” James Ryton suggested.

  The image of a man in a tan suit with a shock of brown hair, a wry smile, and strong, square jaw appeared in Andie’s mind. He looked familiar.

  “This is Stephen Jeffers,” Halden said. “As you may know, he ran against Jacobsen in the senatorial primary. And once he lost, he became a solid supporter of her campaign. He’s been a Washington lawyer for ten years, but maintains a residence in Oregon. He’s worked with Jacobsen on several issues. He’s solid, dependable. Even the normals like him.”

  The image faded. Michael remembered that he and his father had seen Jeffers in Jacobsen’s office in the spring. He seemed like a good choice.

  “We’ve met him before,” James Ryton said. “What’s his approach?”

  “He’s aggressive. Wants to repeal the Fairness Doctrine. Of course, he’d pursue some of the conciliatory programs that Jacobsen espoused, too.”

  “It’s about time,” Ren Miller said. “Frankly, I’m tired of this tentative shit. I think we should demand more representation. More voice. What good is the Mutant Union if we don’t use it?”

  “And what would you have that voice say?” Ryton was on his feet, glaring at Miller. The husky young man returned his stare, rising out of his chair to lean on beefy forearms.

  “I’m fed up with kowtowing to these normals—inferiors!” Miller’s voice shook the room.

  “And put us all at risk? Are you out of your mind?” Ryton was shouting now, too.

  “What’s our alternative?” Miller demanded. “Let them kill us with impunity? Then crawl to them asking, ‘Oh please, please, could you give us just a little bit of information?’”

  Michael jumped up, ready to come to his father’s aid if Miller attacked him. Angry voices swelled up around their argument, with Halden’s roar louder still.

  “James! Ren! That’s enough!” The Book Keeper stood, knocking his chair over. Halden was one of their strongest telepaths, and he proved it once more, sending mental echoes bouncing through the minds of all assembled until every golden eye in the room was focused on him.

  “We’ve been over this before,” he said in calmer tones. “We’re not strong enough to make demands. The only thing we’ll do is alienate the mainstream without any gain. We’ve made a little headway. But we must proceed cautiously.”

  Michael sat down. Halden was right, he thought.

  “If we cannot reason calmly among ourselves, we have no right to expect outsiders to deal with us at all,” Halden said, looking around the room. “I’m uncomfortable with the growing arrogance I detect toward the normals. I remind you that we are all human, gifted in different ways. I can’t stress enough the dangers of overconfidence.”

  “Well, then don’t select Jeffers,” Skerry said. “You’re asking for trouble.”

  Halden righted his chair and sat down. “What makes you say that?”

  “He’s more conservative than you think. And less.”

  “Stop talking in riddles.” James Ryton rubbed his forehead.

  Skerry put down his cup. “Don’t you have any other candidates? What about you, Halden?”

  The big man shook his head. “I don’t want that job. What’s more, I’m not qualified.”

  “And what do you really know about Stephen Jeffers?” Skerry said.

  “Reports on him are good. He hasn’t attended a clan meeting recently, but he’s known to be careful, conservative and responsible.”
<
br />   “I think you should choose someone better known, better tested. I don’t trust him.”

  Ryton pushed back his chair. “I’d say that’s high praise, coming from you.”

  Skerry ignored him. “Just take it on faith, okay?”

  “You know we could force you to share with us,” Zenora said angrily.

  “Mindrape? You and what mutant army?” Skerry’s voice was loud, scornful. “You know I’m one of the strongest here. Do you really want to try it?”

  He looked poised to fight. Michael shuddered. Skerry would be a formidable opponent.

  “Of course not. But you’re not giving us very much useful information,” Halden said, with a sharp look at his wife.

  Skerry turned to face him. “I came here to enlighten you about what’s going on in Brazil and to vote against Jeffers. I don’t have any hard information on him. But I think you’re making a mistake about him.”

  “Perhaps if you attended a few more clan meetings, we’d trust your perceptions more,” Zenora said.

  “Save it,” he snapped. “You know I don’t fit in. And if you’d only realize that I’m more useful to you on the outside than in this claustrophobic little circle, you’d know I’m right about Jeffers.”

  “Skerry, can’t you give us any proof?” Michael asked.

  “Nothing you’d trust.”

  “Well, we can’t just go on your word,” Halden said. “Be reasonable. You’re overexcited. Jeffers is a fine candidate.”

  “It’s our funeral.” Skerry folded his arms.

  Above the table, an image formed of a giant mutant unity pin. Suddenly, every arm that encircled the pin’s golden eye rose up, each fist clenched in aggression. The arms stretched, lengthened, reached out toward the assembled clan before turning down at strange angles. The distance between each elbow and wrist elongated. Fists disappeared. Impossibly slender, the limbs pressed against the floor of the air and levered the center disk upward. It was a body now, not an eye. The body of a giant golden spider that scuttled away, mandibles clicking, seeking prey. Skerry smiled. The image faded.

  For a moment, no one spoke. Then James Ryton slammed his cup down on the table.

  “Enough of these silly parlor tricks,” he said. “Regardless of Skerry’s opinion, I move that we endorse Stephen Jeffers and support his appointment.”

  “Seconded,” said Sue Li.

  Halden asked for a vote, and it was almost unanimous, save for Skerry’s abstention.

  “Motion passed,” Halden said. “The Central-Eastern Mutant Union hereby endorses the candidacy of Stephen Jeffers,” Halden said. Beside him, Zenora made notes on a lapscreen jacked into the CST Net.

  “Halden, the San Bernardino session and the Berkeley group have selected Jeffers as well,” she said. “Alaska, Hawaii and the Midwest also.”

  “Good,” Halden said. “I’ll make the recommendation to Governor Akins on Monday.”

  Skerry stood up. “Well, so much for good intentions.” He walked toward the door and vanished. Michael looked around the table. The meeting seemed to be ending. He decided to go find Andrea Greenberg.

  “That telepathic linkage wasn’t anything like what I expected,” Andie said. She sipped coffee from a bright yellow mug, grateful for the warmth.

  “What did you think?” Michael asked, smiling. “We’d bolt you to a table and send electricity jolting through you? Turn you into some kind of zombie?”

  “Not exactly. But I didn’t think it would be so, well, pleasant. I almost envy you for being able to connect in that way.”

  “It’s one of the best things about being a mutant.”

  “And the mental flares are some of the worst?”

  Michael nodded.

  “Tell me about them.”

  “They seem to occur mostly in older male mutants. My father’s just starting to get them now.”

  “Are they fatal?”

  “Not on their own, no. But sometimes suicide seems a preferable choice to the noise and pain.”

  Andie grimaced. “Sounds awful.”

  “I’m not looking forward to it.”

  “Any cure?”

  Michael shrugged. “Our healers can control it somewhat. After that, we rely on drugs.”

  “What did you think of our entrance?”

  “Typical Skerry. He always does something strange. I like it. And him.”

  “Doesn’t seem like your clan elders share your opinion.”

  “Well, they’re pretty conservative. Traditional. Too traditional.” He frowned.

  “What do you mean?” Andie thought he seemed exasperated.

  “Well, in relationships, for instance. I’m seeing this girl, and since they don’t approve, I’ve got to be careful not to risk their censure.”

  “Is she mutant?”

  “No.”

  “What would they do to you?”

  “Demand that I end the relationship or else be expelled. They want me to marry somebody in the clan.”

  Andie stared at him in surprise. “Arranged marriages? I thought that went out with the abacus.”

  “Not in mutant season.”

  “What?”

  “Sorry. Private joke. You see, it doesn’t matter what’s happening in the outside world. In here, it’s always mutant season. Which means that what matters is tradition.”

  “And I guess it’s always an off-season for illicit romance.” Andie patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t let them discourage you, Michael.”

  “I won’t.” He smiled. “To change the subject, what do you think of Stephen Jeffers? That’s who we’ve decided to recommend as Jacobsen’s replacement.”

  “Seems like a good choice to me,” Andie said. “Jacobsen certainly liked him. I remember, he was always after her to push harder on pro-mutant legislation. But can your people convince Governor Akins to appoint him?”

  Michael leaned back against a kitchen counter, nodding. “Sure. Halden can be very persuasive when he has to be. And Akins knows he’s got to pacify the mutants somehow or well see a replay of the violence in ninety-five, when the Mutant Union was formed.”

  “God, I hope not.”

  “If anybody can head it off, Jeffers can. Will you work for him?”

  “I doubt it. He’ll probably want all new staff. And I could use a vacation. I still have dreams about the assassination. Bad ones. I’m considering a hypnotic implant to screen them.”

  “If they persist, you might want to ask our healers for assistance.”

  Andie smiled. “Well, if their treatment is anything like that groupmind thing I experienced, I might take you up on it.” She glanced at her watch. “Gods, it’s late. I’d better hurry if I’m going to catch the shuttle back to Washington. Good luck, Michael. Keep in touch.”

  14

  ON SEPTEMBER FIRST, GOVERNOR TIMON AKINS of Oregon appointed Stephen Jeffers to serve out the remainder of Eleanor Jacobsen’s Senate term. Andie got the news at lunch when the screen in the Senate cafeteria ran an interview with the handsome new senator. She pushed away her plate of curried tofu, her appetite gone.

  So Halden had been persuasive, just as Michael had promised, she thought. And now, what happens to me?

  “You’re not eating,” Karim said in mock disapproval. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she lied. “I’m thinking about the Brazil report. I guess your boss will give it now.”

  “Craddick’s probably a better choice than Horner. You know I suggested to him that you should present it with him now that Jacobsen’s dead.”

  “Yeah. And he delicately demurred. I don’t blame him. After all, who am I? The former aide to a dead senator.”

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “Clean my desk out and go on vacation.” She pushed back her chair and stood up. “I think I’ll get started. See you tonight.”

  The elevators whisked her to the fifteenth floor, the air-conditioning raising goose bumps on her skin. Shivering, Andie buzzed open the
door to the office.

  She’d heard nothing from the mutants since her visit to Denver. Of course, it was only a week ago. But they’d already managed to get their next senator in place. Well, if they needed her, they’d call her.

  Jeffers was due to report in tomorrow. How the press would enjoy Jacobsen’s successor with his vidstar looks and Italian silk suits.

  Andie didn’t expect to keep her job, but she was prepared to offer her services as liaison for the transition in staff. Then, maybe, there’d be time for two weeks in Cancun or Mendocino or ClubMoon. After that, well, there was the rest of her life to contemplate.

  The buzzer at the door sounded. She heard Caryl talking to somebody. The door to her office slid open and a man with thick brown hair, tan skin, and golden eyes walked in.

  “Ms. Greenberg? Good to see you again.”

  Andie jumped to her feet. “Senator Jeffers. We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.…”

  Jeffers smiled. He had terrific teeth.

  “I apologize for the inconvenience. I’d wanted to meet the staff early and was afraid you’d arrange some kind of stiff, uncomfortable ceremony.”

  Andie smiled back. He certainly seemed less formal than Jacobsen. She took his outstretched hand and felt the warmth as she shook it.

  “I know you were indispensable to Senator Jacobsen, and I’m afraid I’m going to be leaning pretty heavily on you at first. You are staying on, of course?”

  “Uh, of course.” Andie wondered why she was agreeing. But he was so charming. And after all, taking over for an assassinated senator was a huge task. Of course she’d help him out. She could put off her vacation for a while.

  “Great! I’m sure you’re busy now, but I’d like to talk with you, get to know you a bit. We’re going to be working together very closely.” He flashed the smile again. “Do you have plans for dinner?”

  Andie thought of Karim. She’d promised him she’d cook tonight. But he’d understand. This was the opportunity to lay the groundwork with her new boss. Jacobsen had never invited her to dinner.

  “Nothing I can’t reschedule,” she said.