The doctor inspected Dillon’s wound and declared he was healing well enough to depart. Sean did his best to put some real gratitude into his farewell, but the Counselor’s rejection of their experience plus being banned from the station left him hollow.
The twins and Carver then transited back to Carver’s so-called home. The odd kitchen, with the sales tags still on the dishwasher and fridge, was somehow welcoming. Sean supported some of Dillon’s weight, but already his brother was showing signs of his old stubborn strength.
Sean was still figuring out which protest to level first at Carver when Dillon offered weakly, “Sean knew this was coming. He was worried all day about something bad going down.”
“I remember,” Carver said. “But a dozen transits in one day would unsettle the most seasoned Messenger. Foul moods and misrememberings are standard fare. Which is why it is included in your instruction. We must be certain your internal state remains stable.”
“No,” Dillon said. “Sean doesn’t have moods.”
“I hear your objections, and they change nothing. The Counselor has passed judgment. This debate is finished.” Carver walked them back through the living room, where probably no one had ever sat, out to the front porch. Where they jerked to a halt.
The Charger sat in the front drive. Silver. Gleaming. Unmarked.
The twins said in unison, “Spooky.”
“The car was here as you see it when I arrived,” Carver said. “The police report no traffic accident involving such a car.”
“It happened like we said,” Dillon insisted. His tone had gone sullen, the child not being heard by the adult. “We didn’t lie.”
“And we have moved beyond that. Listen carefully. You both are very fortunate. The Counselor responsible for this sector has taken a personal interest in you. This means far more than just being saved from Examiner Tirian’s down-check. Heed her warning. Stay away from the station. And be ready to return to your studies tomorrow.”
Dillon said, “So we’re supposed to just go home and pretend nothing’s changed?”
“No,” Carver replied. “Everything has changed. Just not on the surface.”
Sean asked, “No more Examiner, though, right?”
“Correct. Tirian is no longer your concern.”
Dillon asked, “And the mind-wipe business, that’s all over and done?”
“Unless you are convicted of abusing your powers.” The jagged edge returned to their instructor’s voice. “Which would include returning to that transit point.”
“But—”
Carver held up his hand, arresting further protests, then pointed them across the lawn. Past the gleaming silver car. Into the waiting house. “Have a good night. I will see you tomorrow after school.”
But it was hard to go home.
Their mother asked how the trip had been. Then she seemed to tune out halfway through Dillon’s lame response. Ninety minutes later they were enduring another silence at the dinner table, punctuated by their parents’ sighs and unfinished sentences. All through the meal Sean felt like the TV talk show audience was laughing at him from the other room.
Upstairs Sean played on his computer while night settled in beyond his window. He heard Dillon’s muffled laugh through the closed door and assumed his brother was chatting with Carey. The e-games and the internet just couldn’t hold him. Which was hardly a surprise. Regardless of what the Counselor and Carver thought, they had just survived an attack from something that wasn’t really alive. Not to mention transiting halfway across the galaxy, then facing down an Examiner with the power to wipe his memory. Sean found it hard to go back to the same-old.
As he powered down the computer, Dillon knocked on his door. Which was odd. Normally his brother just barreled in regardless.
Dillon poked his head in and asked, “Mind some company?”
“I was waiting for you to get off the phone so I could come ask you the same thing.”
Dillon dumped Sean’s clothes on the floor and eased himself into the room’s other chair. “I called Carey.”
“I figured that’s who it was.”
“She’s really nice.”
“I noticed.”
Dillon’s gaze turned to the wall between Sean’s and their parents’ bedrooms. “Did you also notice how the folks didn’t even ask what we’ve been doing?”
“They asked if we had a good time.”
Dillon just stared at the wall.
“Yeah,” Sean replied. “I noticed.”
Dillon lifted his shirt. “Check this out.”
The scar was still visible. But barely. Sean leaned in closer. No stitches. No sign of his brother almost bleeding out. “Okay. That’s cool.”
“I still feel some stiffness. But the pain’s gone. I asked Sandrine when I could go back to hitting people. Know what she said? I should focus more on not getting hit back.”
“She was something else.”
“Yeah, maybe I should talk with Carver about some dough I can spend on the other side of the galaxy.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, we can’t go back. Even if the doc would give you the time of day.”
Dillon sighed. “I can’t believe they’re banning us from the place we’ve dreamed about all our lives.”
But Sean didn’t want to think on that. It hurt too much.