Mutant Legacy Read Free

thundered, pounding the table. “I won’t allow it. My brother did not create Better World and I have not devoted my life to preserving it so that a bunch of restless administrators could Havators cplay games with the stock portfolio.”
    “We didn’t mean to upset you,” Barsi said, oozing conciliation. But I could read her mind, and what I saw I didn’t like. They would placate me now and later, behind my back, proceed as they wished. A bloodless coup. The head wouldn’t even realize that it had been separated from the body.
    “That’s right,” Ginny chimed in. “If you really feel strongly about this and don’t think we should invest the Better World funds, then of course we won’t do it.”
    All around the table heads nodded, faces smiled. Liars. Hypocrites. Did they all really think I was so old and unaware of their motives?
    “Fine,” I said. “Let’s leave everything in place then, shall we? Oh, and Ginny, from now on I’d like to see quarterly reports of the Better World portfolio.”
    She stared at me, caught off-guard. “Of course. But you might find them tiresome. There’s a great deal of paperwork and I don’t know if you can handle—”
    “Quarterly reports,” I snapped. “Right away.” So my suspicions were correct: Ginny had already begun to deploy the money. I could hear her dismayed thoughts loud and clear.
    He’s going to be difficult.
    Yes, indeed, my dear Madame CFO. At least I certainly intended to make every attempt at it.
    The meeting ended quickly after that with smiles all around and a great show of false fellowship. Barsi even offered to escort me back to my quarters but I shook her off.
    “No, my dear. The old man wants to be alone.” And for a moment, a precious, regretful moment, I gazed upon her lovely dark face. She wore golden bells that hung from her ears and her dark braids like metal flowers. I had come very close to loving her, in my way. Despite her sudden betrayal I found myself warming to her yet again. But no. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
    Alone in my rooms I realized that I needed help—reinforcements. And quickly. Very soon now, the administrators would seize control of Better World and run it as they saw fit as a corporation in the business of self-perpetuation rather than the service of others. I couldn’t hold them off alone. But I couldn’t let it happen. It would make a mockery of everything I had worked toward, and my brother before me. It was unbelievable: once again I was being forced to fight for control of this blasted, sainted organization.
    Rick, are you laughing?
    At night when the bare branches rub against one another groaning like a poorly strung violin I think I can hear your laughter in the trees.
    Memory plays tricks on an old man and the ghosts of past days waver before my eyes like old-fashioned projected movies. My parents wave from a faded frame. And there’s Narlydda, a gifted artist, and her husband Skerry, my true father. Killed by my only brother, Rick. Yes, that’s correct. The Desert Prophet was a murderer who committed that most Grecian of crimes: parricide. But that truth is hidden safely in the past along with my ghosts. I’ve seen to that. No one is alive now to remember it. No one but me. And Alanna.
    And now I must turn to her. My half-sister, daughter of Narlydda and Skerry. Of all my ghosts she is the only one with substance. We have not spoken in years. But I remember her number easily and put through a call on my private, shielded line. Her message field answers: Alanna disdains simulacra.
. I
    “Help me,” I say to the orange, glowing screen. “You are the only one, Alanna, the only other who remembers …”
    The years spin backward and I recall them all too clearly. Daylight came and went, the seasons moved through their ritual dance for six long years after Skerry died, and never in all that time did I receive word from Rick, whom I had sent into exile. Not that I expected it. At first I had felt