Indigo laughed. “Oh Sxibbo, that’s not the surprise.”
My eyebrows went up, but before I could say anything, Myshtal entered the room wearing a cooking apron and carrying a plate of toast in one hand and a plate of cooked bacon in the other. She was followed by my mother, who carried a bowl of scrambled eggs.
“What’s this?” I asked as Myshtal set both plates on the table.
“Myshtal made breakfast for us,” Mom said.
“Oh, wow,” I uttered, as this really was unexpected. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“So says the guy who rarely cooks his own meals,” my grandfather chimed in.
“That’s not true,” I countered. “I make my own meals all the time.”
“Cereal and sandwiches don’t count as cooking,” Indigo interjected.
“Fine,” I said testily. “I’ll fry my cereal in the skillet next time before I eat it.”
That got a chuckle out of everyone as we sat down to eat, with me thinking that this was a nice gesture on Myshtal’s part. It was a fairly basic breakfast and clearly wasn’t a test of her culinary skills, but considering the fact that she had probably never prepared a meal before, I was suitably impressed.
“This is great,” I said to Myshtal as I took a bite of toast.
“Thanks,” Myshtal replied. “I wish I could take all the credit, but I did have help.” She tilted her head towards my mother.
“You’re being too generous,” Mom said between bites of bacon. “All I really did was season the eggs.”
“Well, my compliments to both chefs,” Gramps said, to which Mom and Myshtal both muttered their thanks.
From that point, the breakfast conversation shifted mostly to generic topics, but with a focus on the gala to occur that night. There was a general question about my friends being invited, but no one asked specifically about Electra attending. Our relationship was obviously in an odd place, but – despite the tense conversation we’d had outside the embassy – we had ended the night on something of a high note. Dealing with Kroner’s unexpected appearance had given us something else to focus on, and watching my grandparents pose for him had reminded us of just how much we cared for each other. In short, after Kroner had gotten his photo and departed – and my grandparents had retired for the night (for the second time) – Electra and I had parted with a kiss as opposed to heated words.
Thinking of her now (and the fact that I’d be seeing her at the upcoming shindig) made me mindful of everything I had to do today. With my chore list now in the forefront of my brain, I quickly finished up breakfast and excused myself. Then – after promising that I wouldn’t be late for the night’s festivities – I ran upstairs, grabbed a jacket from my closet, and teleported.
Chapter 11
I popped up on a paved but mostly deserted two-lane road that could be accurately described as being in the middle of nowhere. The immediate surroundings were primarily featureless, frost-covered plains, although mountains were visible off in the distance. A cruel, wintry wind blew in from behind me, mussing my hair. Raising my body temperature to combat the obvious cold, I focused on the one notable feature of the landscape – a guard shack in the middle of the road about a thousand feet away – and began walking towards it.
I approached at a pace that was probably on par with power walking: too slow to be jogging or running, but too fast to be construed as my normal stride. This was basically to give the guards in the shack adequate notice of my presence. Telescoping my vision, I saw them through the window of the building – a couple of guys in matching uniforms that at first resembled military fatigues, but which didn’t have name tags or identify a branch of service. Noting my approach, one of them spoke hastily into a handheld radio, and then they both checked their weapons – each carried a service pistol – before putting on overcoats. Afterwards, they simply watched me, plainly waiting until I got close enough to merit them coming outside.
Having been here before, I could easily have popped up right next to the shack, or zipped over to it at super speed. However, I didn’t see any benefit in making guys with guns (and perhaps itchy trigger fingers) any more excitable than necessary. Therefore, I had made sure that my presence was conspicuous and kept my hands visible as I drew close.
When I was about a dozen paces away, the two guards came out. One of them carried a small computer tablet; the other held an assault rifle (which I hadn’t noticed before), although it was currently pointed at the ground.
The shack had barrier arms down, blocking traffic in both directions – an indication that most visitors probably arrived here via motor vehicle. However, if the guards found anything strange with respect to me being on foot, they didn’t show it. It was either a sign of professionalism on their part, or they’d been briefed about me. (Or they could have been the same guards who had been on duty when I’d been here previously. Unfortunately, I hadn’t taken note of their faces, and without name tags it was difficult to say.)
The two guards eyed me warily as they approached, and I felt suspicion emanating from both of them. That was to be expected in their line of work, but the feeling was interlaced with confusion and bafflement. Maybe my being on foot was surprising to them after all.
The guard with the tablet walked straight up to me, while the other took a position to my left and slightly to the rear. Practically speaking, the one with the assault rifle was in position to blow my head off if I did anything even slightly out of the ordinary.
“I’m on the approved visitor’s list,” I said to the one with the tablet. “Name’s Jim
