Being There

by Christopher Kempke

Copyright (c) 1990

Student

On the side of a mountain in Colorado, a young woman shifted her backpack and peered off of the trail into the brush for the fiftieth time in as many minutes. The trail itself was remarkable only in that it appeared well used, for it was a good distance off of any road and practically inaccessible overland. The woman had herself had arrived via helicopter to a small clearing some ways down the mountain.

After a time she seated herself on a rock, pulled a sandwich from a coat pocket, and began to eat, never ceasing her relentless scan of the surrounding terrain. Thus, she saw the hiker approach without his seeing her. A quick examination led her to believe he was no more than what he appeared, and she resumed eating. A soft peal of thunder rolled up the mountain a moment later, and her eyes snapped back to the hiker. He was no longer there, leaving the trail as empty as it had been most of the day.

"Damn," she muttered under her breath, and began the easy descent to where she had seen him last. Reaching it, she sat down again and waited.

The wait paid off about an hour later when the hiker reappeared in a flash of light that made her grin with some private joke.

"You need to work on that, kiddo." The hiker stiffened and spun at the sound of her voice.

"Who are you?"

"Currently, a damsel in distress. I need to get into the Academy. I've found the ventilation shafts, but doors seem to be a commodity you folks don't have."

"Of course not. What use is a door to..." He halted, uncertain, tried to look stern. "Just who are you?"

"I'm not a Teletrix, obviously. Would you be so kind as to take me in?"

He still looked uncertain. "I'm just a student, I don't think I can do that. But I'll tell Mr. Morlen that you're here. What did you say your name was?"

"June Kendall."

He was obviously nervous; the peal of thunder that rolled down the mountain at his disappearance made June's head hurt. By contrast, Anthony Morlen's appearance, a few minutes later, was silent. A tall man in a business suit, he merely WAS, where a moment before he was not.

Anthony smiled "Good day, Mrs. Kendall. I apologize for keeping you waiting out here, but we had no idea you were coming. Why didn't you just call? We could have brought you here quite easily, you know."

"I needed the fresh air and I like flying." She gestured expansively. "And the mountains are beautiful this time of year." She paused, fixed her gaze firmly on him. "Are you going to invite me in?"

Anthony looked around, as if just now noticing their surrounding. He smiled, and a moment later, they stood in a plush office. He sat behind the heavy desk, motioned for June to take a seat as well.

"How can I help you?" His smile, if not handsome, was at least sincere. June didn't smile at all.

"I want to know where Martin is. I haven't seen him for two weeks. No phone call, nothing. Last time I saw him, he was on his way here."

Anthony didn't lose his smile, but his face showed concern as well. "It's strange that he wouldn't call. But I'm afraid that he's on Academy business, and I can't tell you where he is. Rules, you know."

"Damn your rules. I think something's happened to him."

"I'm sure he's just fine. Quite sure."

June relaxed, sat back a little bit. "All right, all right. Can you get a message to him?"

Anthony nodded, June continued. "Just ask him to call home as soon as he can."

"I will, but it may be a while. Can I do anything else for you?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. You could feed me dinner. My husband is always raving about the food here."

Anthony smiled broadly. "Then he was indeed raving. But I'll arrange it immediately. One moment." He vanished.

June was up instantly, crossing the room to the large file cabinet on the wall. It was locked tight, in that annoying habit of the Teletrix, but she produced a lockpick from a pocket and opened it in a few seconds.

Acting quickly, she emptied the folder labeled "Kendall, Martin" into her knapsack, filled it with papers pulled randomly from nearby folders, and closed the drawer.

She was back in the chair before Anthony reappeared.

By the time the helicopter landed at a friend's private airfield, she was completely familiar with the contents of the folder, including the short addition. "Wife: June Kendall, Chemistry Teacher, Springfield High. Harmless." She was somewhat amazed at the number of missions her husband ran for the academy -- almost a dozen in the last year alone. She had thought his connection with the academy almost nonexistent, and knew of his distaste for the administration that ran it. Not for the first time, she wondered just how powerful the academy and its rather special graduates were.

As for Martin himself, the folder placed him in Glasgow, investigating the disappearance of several Teletrix there. Anthony Morlen had lied about at least one point; the folder listed his status as "missing, whereabouts unknown." She forced herself rather sternly to remain calm. The folder was remarkably sparse on details.

She took her friend's car to her home, parked across the street, observing her house. After a short time, she saw someone moving in the living room. June started the car, and drove away.

A few minutes later, she pulled up in front of the Springfield High School and let herself in with the master key. The halls were deserted; apparently Anthony had not sent anyone here to intercept her. A storeroom door covered with "DANGER" signs opened to her key, as did a small refrigerated chest in the back. From the rows of chemical vials therein, she selected about two dozen, placing them with some others in a protected case in her knapsack.

Before leaving, she placed a long distance collect call. Anthony's voice came on the other end. She cut him off.

"Nice try. You can tell the dudes in my house to forget it. I won't be attending their party. And if anything has happened to Martin..." She let the threat trail off, hung up before he could answer.

Less than 24 hours later she stepped off a bus in Glasgow. She had taken rather a roundabout path to get here, since the Academy appeared to be taking an active interest in her, but she had little problem getting a flight; money talks loudly, and June Kendall talked fast. She got lucky going through customs, her handbag was not searched, the chemicals in the false bottom remained undiscovered.

Her first stop was in a small hotel on the opposite side of town from the one in which Martin supposedly resided. She got a room without difficulty, a fairly small but modern one, comfortable but not plush enough to attract attention. The innkeeper's accent amused her briefly, her attempt to mimic it back was apparently successful; the Scottish dialect was familiar to her from several vacations with Martin. The thought of him kept her moving quickly, but with caution. It had taken her hours to cross the sea; if a Teletrix found her snooping, it would take less than a second to make the return trip.

Safely in her room, she spread out an array of bottles and vials, and looked them over carefully. It took only a few minutes to mix the concoctions she needed.

When she emerged from her room an hour later, no one would have recognized her. Her usually-light hair was a burgundy so deep it would pass for black, tied in a fashion different from her usual style. All of her visible skin had been lightened by several shades. A short stop to a local clothing shop completed her change. In her new purse, three vials of a light powder were carefully protected from jarring.

In this guise she approached Martin's hotel. It was a larger structure than the one in which she had decided to stay, several stories high and built of attractive red brick. She scanned the outside briefly, then entered. The lobby contained various brochures and posters, and several large stuffed chairs. Two of them were occupied by men reading; one paid no attention at all to her, the second surveyed her briefly as she entered, then looked back to his book. He might be innocent; then again, he might be a Teletrix. Careful not to show too much of her face to him, she sat down in the seat next to him and opened her purse. Carefully, she dumped one of the vials of powder into her makeup kit, then withdrew it. The man next to her continued his reading, but looked up to scan each new arrival in the room.

She took a small brush out of the makeup case as if to apply the powder to her face, but sneezed violently instead. The man next to her looked up at the sneeze, brushing away the cloud of dust that had formed about him. June grinned shyly, hiding her face and holding her breath until the cloud settled. He mumbled something and went back to his reading. A few seconds later, as the sleep powder took effect, his head dropped back in the chair.

June looked around. The incident had not disturbed the other reader, and passing guests had abandoned the lobby for rooms within. She approached the desk and rang the bell.

A short man approached and politely asked how she could be helped.

"I'm looking for Martin Kendall. I'm his wife, and I understand he has a room here."

The clerk's eyes snapped briefly to the sleeping man in the chair. June noticed.

"I'd really rather you didn't tell that man I'm here. I know he wanted you to watch out for me, but he's certainly not a friend of mine." She slid a few pound notes across the table to him.

The clerk pushed them back. "That isn't necessary. I didn't really like his attitude anyhow." The clerk signalled for a bellhop, handed him a key. The bellhop accepted it, vanished.

"Mr. Kendall has not checked in, but he called and said to hold that room for him, and that he'd be back in a couple of days. This was about two weeks ago, though."

"And that man?" June prompted.

"He said he was a friend of Mr. Kendall, sent to meet his wife when she arrived. I was supposed to point you out to him."

June nodded. "Thanks for not giving me away."

"Are you in some sort of trouble? I could call the police and have him removed." The man seemed genuinely concerned.

June grinned at the thought of a Teletrix in jail. "It wouldn't do any good. Besides, it would let him know I'm here."

The clerk shrugged, but his eyes said that he didn't approve of her decision. "If you need help, don't hesitate to let me know. The bellhop should be making up your husband's room now, so you should be ready in a few..."

A tremendous explosion shook the building, pulling pictures down from the walls and throwing both June and the clerk to the floor. Beams split from the ceiling, raining debris down upon the occupants of the lounge. June rolled under the desk as a rafter crashed down where she had been standing. The clerk looked at her from the other side his eyes wide with confusion and fear; she gestured at him to cover his head, then did so herself without waiting to see if he complied.

After a few long moments the rubble ceased and the constant rain of debris turned to a lingering cloud of dust. She pulled herself up, and shortly realized that reaching the door would now be impossible, but there appeared little immediate danger and plenty of air, so she settled back to wait for rescue.

Only seconds later a human figure emerged from the air, looking around with a look of shock on his face. June recognized him at once.

"Martin!"

Martin Kendall immediately turned in the direction of her voice.

"June? Are you okay?" The piles of rubble around her vanished without a trace, fresh air wafted over her. Martin himself covered the distance in a few short steps, taking her into his arms as she stood. The clerk behind them stood up uncertainly, shaking his clothes to clear them of dust. Martin nodded briefly in the clerk's direction, then led June around a ceiling beam that jutted out nearby.

The moment they were obscured from the clerk's vision, the ruined hotel ceased to exist, replaced by a plushly furnished room. Martin gestured toward one of the chairs, seated himself in the other.

"Good morning," he said, without a trace of humor in his voice. There was an implied question in the tone.

"Came looking for you. What's going on?"

Martin shrugged. "I wish I knew. Fifteen Teletrix have disappeared here in the last couple months. Inexperienced ones seem to vanish from the Earth, more powerful ones are murdered. The explosion you just, uh, experienced was probably a bomb in my "reserved" room. I took this one instead under an assumed name when I got here."

"How would they know where you were going to be?"

"Apparently the people responsible have access to the Academy's records. Since you managed to find me, I have to guess that those records aren't as secure as they might be." He grinned.

June extracted his file from the remains of her tote, tossed it to the table. "Anthony figured it out, of course. He's been chasing me down since I got them."

Martin nodded. "Probably for your protection. Whatever game is going on here is quite dangerous. He's a good man, if a bit sticky on the rules sometimes."

"Apparently. I take it that this is why you didn't call home?"

"Exactly. I want my file to read `missing.' I'd rather have people believe me dead. Sorry I couldn't let you know, but I'm being very careful. For a while I even suspected that these people had a device that could detect teleportation, so I didn't want to risk a hop home."

"You don't think so any more?"

"No. I'm fairly sure I was found more as a result of impeccable record- keeping on the part of Anthony. Any Teletrix who knew where those records were located could get a hold of them at any time."

"You think it's a Teletrix?"

"Who else would know of our existence? Or care enough to try to kill us? And the murders have all succeeded, with the exception of mine. It's very hard to kill a Teletrix - you have to do it almost instantly, and so unexpectedly that they cannot react. Usually it's been bombs."

He reached under the nightstand, pulled out several manila folders. "Here's everything I've been able to come up with on the cases. Some of this is information Anthony gave me before I left, most of it I gathered myself from police reports. I can't find anything in it, but maybe I'm looking too hard. Take a peek yourself and tell me if you can find anything I missed."

June shook her head, and a small cloud of dust dropped off it. "A shower first, I think. Care to join me?"

Teacher

June Kendall saw the young blond woman standing by the luggage claim, and carefully eased a syringe out of her purse. The maneuver was almost too easy; she slid the needle into the blond woman's leg, then had it back in her purse before anyone could notice. The blond woman spun around quickly at the sharp pain, her eyes going wide.

"Sorry," June said, a moment before the blond woman slumped into her arms.

"She seems to have fainted," June said aloud, "give me some room." Carefully supporting her unconscious burden, she backed out of the crowd and headed for the ladies room. Several people offered to help, but she turned them down. "This happens all the time to her, all it takes is some cold water to bring her back."

Across the wide aisle, Martin Kendall waited until the bathroom door closed, then teleported them all back to the hotel.

"Nice job," he said. "How long will that keep her out?"

"Only a few minutes, but I'll give her something before she wakes up to keep her asleep for eight to ten hours." Even as she spoke, she was filling her hypodermic with a clear liquid.

They waited several minutes until the woman's breathing slowed to almost imperceptible, then stripped her quickly, wrapping her in a hotel bathrobe. June quickly dressed in her clothes, making an occasional adjustment to cover the relatively poor fit. Martin arranged June's hair as closely as they could to the blond woman's style.

"Why would a Teletrix take a plane, anyhow?", she said as he worked.

"Probably she doesn't have enough experience to leap overseas, or she's never been here before. Or maybe Anthony's working on my teleport detection theory."

"He certainly doesn't protect his files any better." Martin had teleported the files here earlier, allowing them to meet the young woman at the airport. They had been returned equally easily. Since the woman had arrived on schedule, Anthony had not noticed the absence.

An hour later, June was back on the street, Martin following at a cautious distance, maintaining a teleportation "shield" around her. They walked several blocks without incident, arriving at last at a small inn.

"Marie Jacobsen, I have a reservation," June said to the innkeeper, just loudly enough that others in the room could hear.

"Of course, Lass. Room twelve." He placed the key on the counter.

June didn't touch it. "Twelve's my unlucky number, I'm afraid. Can I have another room?"

The innkeeper shrugged. "Fine w' me. How 'bout seven? Canna be unlucky."

June nodded. "That would be fine." She took the new key, left the lobby for the hall. As soon as she was out of sight, a man stood up quickly in the lobby and headed for the door.

Martin, who had entered during the exchange, stepped in front of him.

"Going places? Maybe you have something to report to someone?"

The man's eyes flickered only for an instant. He was a professional, it seemed. His hands snapped to his belt, emerged with a knife, which promptly vanished.

"Next time that will be your hand," Martin warned. "Take a walk out the door, and don't even think of running away."

As the man complied, Martin teleported a bit of June's sleep serum into him. Clearly in the prime of health, the assassin managed almost a dozen steps before collapsing to the street. Checking that there was no one in sight, Martin teleported the man back to the hotel room, and went to look for June.

Martin Kendall handed his binoculars to his wife. The two of them were perched on a hilltop overlooking a mansion on the edge of the moors. Below, guards walked the perimeter of the mansion's garden wall, but they were apparently ornamental; none carried a weapon that either Kendall could see. The house itself was clearly still inhabited by wealth; the gardens were impeccable, the manor in excellent repair.

Both Martin and June were disguised quite thoroughly. They would pass for travellers at worst, displaced natives at best. June carried a smaller tote than usual, a secret pocket within concealing the usual array of sleeping powders, mixed chemicals, and three grenades Martin had "borrowed" from an armory somewhere. Martin had only himself as a weapon, more than sufficient for any probable confrontation.

After confirming that no more could be learned from here, June backed down the hill and stood up. Martin followed. The last light was just fading from the sky as they rounded the bottom of the hill toward the mansion.

One of the guards challenged them immediately.

"Sorry to bother you," Martin replied, "but our car seems to have stopped working. Any chance we could use your phone?"

The guard nodded. "Shouldn't be any problem with that. I'll have one of the servants show you to it." He touched an intercom on the wall, spoke briefly into it. He turned back a few moments later.

"Actually, the master of the house will meet you at the door. It's just up the path, but be careful of the roses." He smiled.

"Thank you," Martin said, then turned and led June up the path to the door. They knocked gently.

An elderly man met them at the door.

"Good evening, and welcome to my house. I am Mr. Cavendal, but you may call me `Robert.' Should you require it, please feel free to be my guests tonight; there are always guest rooms prepared."

"Thanks," said Martin, closing the door. "But I think we'd rather just talk to you, if you don't mind. You have arranged numerous times for assassinations in the last few months, and we'd really like to know why."

Robert paled. "Assassinations? I was told that... Oh dear." He turned and retreated into the room behind him, gesturing absently for the Kendalls to follow. Several elegant chairs and a few comfortable-looking ones waited in the other room. Robert selected one of the latter and sat down. June did the same, Martin stood.

"You were saying?" he prompted.

"Yes, yes. Are you the police? I really think that we should call the police."

"I assure you, Mr. Cavendal, that the police could do nothing about this. Try telling us what you know. If it will make you feel more comfortable, you may record the conversation."

"Please call me Robert. No, I don't think that recording will be necessary. It's all very clear to me now.

"Behind the manor are some old buildings that were once used as stables. I'm rather afraid of horses, and my children are in England at the University, so there wasn't much point in my keeping them open. I placed an advertisement, and some men came to look at the buildings. They agreed to rent, and converted them into some sort of laboratories. Occasionally they would leave envelopes with me to give to specific people who came to the door. I always assumed it was for equipment... Are you sure the police shouldn't know about this?"

June withdrew a badge from her tote, passed it to Robert. "We are the police, Robert. I am Marie Johnson, and this is my husband Richard. We're with special investigations." The badge had been forged earlier; Martin grinned at her when she produced it.

Robert looked somewhat relieved. "How can I help you?"

"By not mentioning that we were here. I think we'd better take a look at that lab."

"By all means; it's behind the house. They use the rear entrance to get to it, but you can just take the path through the rear garden."

June stood up. "Thank you for your help. Don't concern yourself about this matter, it's clear that you are innocent of wrongdoing. Simply continue to behave as before, and things should be taken care of in a few days."

Robert led them through the maze of the household, showed them the path they needed to follow.

The stables were clearly of a bygone era, spacious and well-built, apparently more than capable of housing humans. There was an elaborate electronic lock on the door, Martin teleported it a few feet away and opened the door.

Within, surgically clean tables stood in neat rows, most with nothing on them. On the walls, shelves were covered with books, chemical equipment and assorted small items. Several large white rats wandered about in cages on a few of the tables.

June moved to examine these. Housed in small cages, the rats appeared well-fed, climbing about on various miscellaneous objects within the cages. It was an odd collection of objects, pens, lab equipment, articles of clothing, things which should not have been in a rat's cage.

As she puzzled it out, a rat vanished from one cage, reappearing in another at the same moment with a flash of light. Thunder sounded softly. June spun instantly, but Martin's attention was fixed on something on the other side of the room.

"Martin, could you come here a minute?"

Her husband complied silently.

"Watch the cage." She continued to state intently at it. A few moments later, a rat teleported to the water bottle in another cage. The soft peal of thunder was repeated, as was the light.

June looked at her husband, who returned the look with wide eyes.

"Rats? I didn't think that TP occurred except in humans. Something's weird here. Keep looking." He himself continued to state at the cage, as if unable to convince himself of what he saw.

June walked to a large door on the side of the room, with a heavy handle and a lock. "Martin?"

Martin looked up long enough to remove the lock, then returned his scrutiny. June pulled the door open. A wave of cold air rolled out, along with the hum of refrigerators. She stepped into the doorway and froze.

"Oh my god."

The soft exclamation of horror brought Martin to her side. He peered into the freezer.

Within, seventeen bodies lay on tables, all surgically opened and in various stages of dismemberment. Martin stood, staring, for a few moments before he spoke.

"Only the experienced Teletrix were murdered publicly. Those less cautious simply vanished." He looked at several faces, looked away. "That's them. Every single one." He pushed the door closed with anger, just before the light in the main lab snapped on.

A man stood in the doorway, a gun levelled at Martin's chest.

He started to say something, never managed it. Martin teleported away the gun and half his arm, a crash of thunder testifying that the Teletrix's control was nearly gone. The gunman crumpled to the floor clutching the remains of his arm. His white lab coat was splattered red.

Martin covered the distance to him in a flash, June took a few seconds longer. The man on the floor looked up at him, whispered "my arm..."

Martin knelt and slapped him. "If you go into shock on me you're a dead man. And if you want to see a hospital soon enough to save your life, you'd damn well better tell me what this lab is for.in a big hurry."

The man started talking incoherently, stopped himself and started again.

"It's for development and production of a teleportation drug. Help me!"

"Tell me more about the drug, first."

"It's a derivative of the spinal fluids of natural teleporters. It gives people who can't produce the chemicals naturally the ability to teleport."

"Why all the bodies?"

"For the spinal fluids. A single natural teleporter can produce ten or twelve doses. The drug is extremely addicting, so Anthony needs about four doses a week, now. Used to be we could get by with latent teleporters, but now it takes ones who have been using the ability, producing the teleport chemicals in large quantities. We're trying to refine the process. Enough?"

"Anthony who?"

"Morlen. He's the one who funds all this, tells us when the teleporters are arriving, which ones to have killed and which ones to subdue for fluids. He invented the process himself a few years ago."

Martin's eyes flashed. "Anthony Morlen's not a natural teleporter? " His tone was carefully neutral, dangerously controlled.

"Yes. But we're trying to make the killing unnecessary. We've almost been able to produce the chemical artificially..."

Martin cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Your research is over, is that understood? If even one more Teletrix is killed, I will return here and take you and your associates apart a little bit at a time."

"Help me."

"I will. But only so you can pass that warning on to your co-workers. And I expect you to make sure that those bodies are returned to their families. How you do that, and what you tell them, is up to you."

The man slumped; there was no way to know if he had heard Martin's last words. Martin looked at his wife.

"I'll take him to the hospital. Keep your disguise and catch the first plane back to the United States. I'll meet you at your mother's house after I kill Anthony."

"I'm coming along."

"No you're not. Anthony isn't an amateur, he knows that you can't protect yourself and that I can't afford to protect us both."

"I can help you with..."

"No. I'm sorry, but I've got to do this one myself."

"But..." June trailed off. Martin was no longer there.

Academics

Martin reappeared silently beneath the Colorado Mountains, in Anthony Morlen's plushly furnished office. The Teletrix Academy director was not there, but his desk was. One at a time, the contents of the drawers appeared on the top of the desk. In the back of the bottom one, Martin found the syringe and several small bottles of a pale reddish liquid. More was in the bottom file cabinet drawer, still more in the safe behind the desk. Satisfied that he had found all this office had to offer, he teleported all save a single bottle into the sun.

The remaining bottle he lifted and stared into for a few moments. The liquid within glistened with sterilized purity, but to Martin's mind it looked like blood. Still, he had unconsciously wished for years that such a drug existed, a way to give his wife the same abilities and protection that he possessed. That her life should be subject to the whims of nature, traffic accidents she could not control, cancers she could not remove, bullets and knives she could not protect her body against, this was the secret fear he lived with constantly; that she be taken from him because she could not protect herself as he could. It was too bad that the drug had to be purchased at a cost in human lives. With a sigh that did nothing to soothe his anger, he flung the final bottle to the limits of his abilities, into the dark emptiness of infinity.

"I have more, you know." The soft voice behind him carried a menace that could almost be physically felt. Martin spun to face Anthony Morlen.

The director stood, his unruffled business suit giving him an impression of confidence that was somehow amusing. Anthony Morlen had been the director of the Teletrix academy for two years, a physician who had discovered the existence of the Teletrix and chemically duplicated their abilities, although the process required killing a natural teleporter. When he had manifested this ability a few times, he had been picked up by a Seeker, and brought to the Academy. When the previous director died, Anthony's administrative experience and more-than-average age made him the logical replacement. It was not quite the life Anthony had envisioned as a Teletrix, but it gave him access to an unlimited supply of "naturals" when he needed them. Caution, and the elimination of those who might suspect him, were all that were required to keep his position and his supply. However, his net had missed in a single, important case, and both men now knew the other for what he was; Anthony Morlen a powerful and dangerous killer, and Martin Kendall, an equally dangerous and seethingly angry enemy.

Martin tried to teleport a large section of Anthony's body across the room, knowing that it wouldn't work. It didn't. Both men were protecting themselves, teleporting a thousand times a second into the same place, in effect "hardening" their bodies against physical and other threats. It was the first lesson the academy taught after its students could control the Teletrix grid, an unconscious mechanism that could be maintained, if necessary, even while asleep. The only reason it wasn't constantly in use was that it interfered with normal movement and eating, as well as causing a hard-to-explain imperviousness to touch and pressure.

Anthony didn't even notice the attempt. "So it's a stalemate, no? You can't hurt me, I can't hurt you. I have more of the drug, hidden in places you'd never think to look."

Martin teleported away a large section of the floor. Anthony continued to hover in the air, looking down once with a trace of puzzlement in his eyes, then flashed to the edge of the new pit. Martin struggled to think of an effective attack.

Anthony met his gaze. "And if you continue to make things difficult, I'll have your wife killed."

"I can protect her, too. And I've been doing this longer than you have, Anthony. I was born to this, you weren't. Are you so confident that you can challenge me?"

"So far, the challenge hasn't been great. Do you think I got to be director of the Academy because of my good looks? We're equals in the art, and we both know we're safe."

Martin suspected he was right, but didn't say so. " Yes, but my ability is permanent. Eventually your stores of the drug will be wiped out. You can't make more, I've destroyed the laboratory and the notes. If you attempt to create another one, I'll lobotomize the researchers if necessary to keep it from being produced."

Anthony's eyes flickered for a brief instant at the threat. "I have enough for now. And I know enough of the process to produce more, without aid. I'll just be a bit less, ah, efficient about it." His grin was not at all pleasant.

Martin slapped his finger down on the desk intercom, spoke quickly and loudly.

"Students! Protect yourselves and don't let it drop until I say so! Ignore any request from anyone else, especially Mr. Morlen! Your lives are at stake!"

Anthony blinked. "They'll never believe you."

"If I gave you the same warning, would you ignore it? Where are you going to find Teletrix now?"

Anthony laughed. "How about the latents? How about the students who haven't learned how to maintain protection? How about the students who aren't here, and the ones who I can surprise while they're eating? I'm completely beyond your control, Kendall."

Anthony vanished.

June Kendall appeared in the bedroom of a small house. With her was Marie Jacobsen, whom not eleven hours ago June had kidnapped from a Scotland Airport. Now however, they appeared to be the best of friends, talking jovially as though they had know each other for years.

"Ain't much, but I call it home," Marie piped, pushing piles of clothing off a bookcase. She continued to rummage, occasionally teleporting small objects out of her way, until with a triumphant grin she pulled a small folder from the depths of a sheaf of papers. "Here it is."

The two women took seats on the opposite side of a table, spreading the contents of the folder between them. Marie carefully examined each sheet of paper, June glanced at them quickly before selecting one in the center of the pile. A picture of Anthony Morlen was paper-clipped to the upper left corner, the sheet itself contained various pieces of information about him. His home address was printed near the top.

"Baltimore. Been there?"

Marie nodded. "I think I can take us to a hotel room that I stayed in once. But it might be occupied -- I don't know what the safe-jumping points there are."

"We don't have much choice. I need to get there."

Marie considered, but her trained reluctance to allowing outsiders to witness teleportation gave way to June's obvious need. "Okay. Prepare yourself again."

June decided not to point out that she was quite used to teleportation as a method of travel. "I'm prepared. Let's go."

The bedroom was replaced by one slightly larger. In the center of the bed, a young couple ceased their activities suddenly to look up at the two intruders who had suddenly appeared by the side of the bed.

"Aren't peeping Tom's terrible?" June asked conversationally as she crossed to the door and pulled it open. "But everyone needs some excitement in their life, don't you think?" June and Marie exited quickly, pulling the door closed behind them.

Another ten minutes brought them to Anthony's house. Marie "unlocked" a window, and the two of them slid quickly into the house. June headed at once for the kitchen, but a careful search turned up nothing. She had just started examining the living room when Marie's voice summoned her upstairs.

The blond woman help up a bottle of reddish-clear liquid. "There's about twenty of these in a hollow of the wall, along with a syringe." She knocked once on the wall, a slight echo emphasizing her point.

June nodded. "That has to be it. Keep looking, there's probably more around."

Twelve hours later, Martin Kendall entered the main auditorium of the Teletrix academy, his face barely showing the strain of hours without sleep or food. Thirty faces looked up at him, he scanned them cursorily a moment, then his eyes widened as he saw his wife sitting in the back row. Instantly, he tried to extend his protection to her, discovered that she was already invulnerable. After a few seconds confusion, he recognized Marie Jacobsen sitting next to her.

He had expected June to follow him, but hadn't considered the possibility of her enlisting the aid of the Teletrix they had "waylaid." June flashed him a smug smile, he returned a helpless one.

"Keep yourself protected," he said loudly, directing it at her as well as the students in the auditorium. He moved his eyes from her to address the class before he spoke again.

"For the reasons I discussed earlier, Anthony probably won't be here to give the lecture today, so you get me as a guest-speaker of sorts." He smiled, but the tension was clear in the faces of the students, especially the younger ones who were not yet sure of their ability to maintain their protections.

Martin ignored it. "The topic today is momentum." He waited until the tension relaxed a bit and some of the students began taking notes. "Although the same visualization techniques that you use to see the Teletrix grid takes care of fixing the velocity of teleported objects, it is possible to overrule them and change the velocity of an object relative to you during transportation. This is useful, for example, if a priceless Ming vase were falling off a cliff. If you simply transported it to yourself using grid visualization, it would smash into the ground at your feet, or worse, injure you.

"It's not much harder to teleport off your own power as it is off the grid, but it will tire you quickly, and there's some flashy side effects. Most of you remember the thunder that accompanied your first experiences with teleportation. That's a matter of not putting air back when you move the object -- you force it out of the way on the other end, too; that's what causes the light flash, although I couldn't tell you the exact method. When you deal with rapidly moving or falling objects, you need to remember to put air back in the right place and at the right speed, or you get the same effects."

Everyone was paying attention now. Martin tested the protections of all of them; they held. He smiled and continued.

"Okay, here's the technique. Changing velocity can be hard without combining it with actual transportation, so the easiest method is to stop the object first by the `pushing' technique we learned last week, then teleport it. However, if you remember, this caused problems objects more breakable than, say, titanium. A general-case solution it's not."

He actually got some laughs from that one. One came from the doorway, causing Martin to turn.

Anthony stood there, an empty vial in one hand, which he casually tossed to Martin. It vanished halfway through it's arc.

"Just so you know," Anthony said softly. Then, more loudly, "Please, continue."

Martin made one attempt to kill him, then turned back to the class. No one was even pretending to be calm now. Martin clapped for their attention and continued his lecture.

"Observe, please." Martin pulled a rubber eraser from his pocket, threw it full force toward the other side of the room. An instant later, it reappeared in another place, to bounce off the top of Anthony's head. The director showed no signs of having noticed, but a nervous laughter broke out among the assembled.

"This is what happens when you fail to negate the momentum. On the other hand, a careful Teletrix would do it like this:" The eraser reappeared in his hand; he threw it again. A moment later it appeared in front of Anthony's face, motionless for an instant until it plummeted to the floor. Anthony blinked, then doubled over. Martin's eyes widened briefly, but he recovered fast enough to make another teleportation attempt on the director's heart. It failed; Anthony was maintaining his protection despite his apparent pain.

Another spasm appeared to shake Anthony's body, this time dropping him to the floor. Martin looked to the students and shrugged. They held onto desks, seats, and notebooks, knuckles universally white, not understanding what they saw. The one person who did understand spoke softly.

"Cyanide," June Kendall said, standing up carefully and walking to the front of the room. "Marie and I put a sizable quantity of it into the drugs we found in his house."

Anthony's eyes looked up toward her as he spasmed again, a mixture of pain, hatred, and other less pure emotions; whatever attack he made on her in that instant failed, and his eyes closed.

Martin looked at his wife. June shook her head quickly. "It will take about another minute, but I doubt he'll regain consciousness."

For the next several minutes they watched as Anthony's breathing slowed, then stopped. Even after there was no sign of life, no one made a sound for long minutes.

Finally Martin turned back to the class. His voice was soft, but carried in the silence.

"It would appear, ladies and gentlemen, that this lesson is over."

Christopher Kempke is a graduate student in computer science at Oregon State University. He is generally acknowledged to have gone insane trying to decide on a plural form of "Teletrix." He would like to thank his fans for their electronic flurry of mail, but this is the LAST Teletrix story he intends to produce for a while.

kempkec@ure.cs.orst.edu