Well, that explains some things, I thought.
“Unfortunately,” Mouse went on, “I wasn’t able to shut down everything, as you saw. In addition, I didn’t have time to cut off Dream Machine’s escape route before my connection got terminated.”
“You mean before I screwed up,” I corrected, feeling awful.
Mouse laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Look, don’t go beating yourself up about what happened. Even if everything else had gone perfectly, there’s no guarantee that I would have been able to use my tablet to stop the upload or keep Dream Machine from hightailing it to the internet.”
“Except there won’t be a note that says ‘Lacks focus’ in your League dossier.”
Mouse laughed. “We don’t keep a tally of stuff like that around here. We’re not some military school, tracking demerits to see if we need to kick you out.”
“But there’s got to be some kind of scoreboard – some way to rate mission performance.”
Mouse contemplated for a second before answering. “It’s really on a case-by-case basis, and individualized towards the person.”
“So you’re saying that if two people – say, me and Smokey – go on a mission, we might be rated on different things in terms of efficacy.”
“Exactly.”
I drummed my fingers on the table for a moment. “So what was I graded on this time?”
“You weren’t really being evaluated. Based on everything you’ve been dealing with since you came back from Caeles, I was really just hoping the mission would give you a sense of perspective.”
“You mean, did it take my mind off the raging trash fire that’s my personal life?”
Mouse chuckled. “The key word you were supposed to focus on was ‘perspective,’ wiseacre.”
“Oh. You’re asking if the mission made me realize that the raging trash fire I mentioned was really more of a sputtering matchhead. In that case, the answer is yes. My personal problems pale in comparison to the threats the League faces on a daily basis.”
Mouse nodded. “Bingo. All of our personal problems – breakups, bad investments, car in the shop, what have you – they’re mostly inconsequential when you look at the big picture of what we do.”
“Agreed,” I said, knowing he was right.
“Great. That’s one important aspect of the mission covered.”
“Uh,” I mumbled hesitantly, “before we move on to anything else, can we talk about the people we saw underground?”
Mouse’s brow creased. “What about them?”
I leaned forward, unsure of how to phrase what I wanted to say. “It bothered me when I saw them. I mean, they looked like they were having a hard time – especially some of the children. Isn’t there anything we can do to help them?”
“You don’t need to do anything to help them,” Mouse said flatly.
I stared at him for a moment, unsure that I’d heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”
“I said that you don’t need to do anything for those people,” he repeated in a sincere tone.
I blinked, so confused that I had trouble articulating my thoughts. “I’m sorry…I don’t…I’m not…”
I was beyond bewildered. Mouse was one of the most compassionate people I knew, so I was having a real issue coming to terms with his statements. I’d never seen him voice this kind of callous disregard for others. Hoping for answers, I reached out empathically and sensed something unexpected: mirth, and a self-satisfied air of contentment.
“Wait a minute,” I muttered, still trying to make sense of everything as a sly smile crept onto my mentor’s face. And then the truth hit me.
“You already did it,” I asserted, more a statement of fact than anything else.
Mouse responded by bursting into laughter.
“Yes,” he said a few moments later, after regaining his composure. “After you left, I made some calls to a few shelters and humanitarian organizations. We got most of the people placed, but a few stubbornly refused to leave, so we arranged to have some meals and blankets sent down to them. So, as I said, there’s nothing you need to do because it’s already been done.”
“Thanks,” I said. “For a moment there, I thought you were serious.”
“You should have seen the look on your face,” Mouse chuckled. “It was hilarious.”
“Well, I’m glad you were entertained,” I stated with mock indignation. “Hopefully you’ll consider me for the position of League jester. But in the meantime, if we’re done with the debriefing, I’ll take my leave.”
Mouse nodded, still grinning. “Yes, we’re done. However, I could use your assistance with something else.”
Chapter 14
I teleported Mouse and myself to my father’s mansion – the palatial estate where the gala for my grandparents was going to be held. We popped up in the foyer, which opened into a lavish great room that was characterized by marble floors, exquisite furnishings, and rare artwork.
Even though we were hours away from the night’s festivities, the place was already bustling. The great room was filled with an army of staff and personnel, hurriedly trying to do a million things: bring in food, set up tables, install temporary bars, and so on.
“You see BT anywhere?” Mouse asked.
“No,” I replied, “but give me a sec.”
I reached out empathically, searching for the familiar emotional vibe of Braintrust (whom Mouse had casually referred to as “BT”).
“She’s out by the pool,” I announced a moment later. “Hang on.”
I teleported us again, this time taking us to an exotic, poolside terrace at the rear of the mansion that was home to, among other things, an outdoor fireplace, lavish furnishings, and a built-in bar. The pool itself was oversized, with various amenities, including a waterfall and hot tub.
“Hey, you two,” said a feminine voice from behind us.
We both turned almost in unison and found ourselves facing a stunning blonde wearing jeans and a sweatshirt: BT.
It was a little breezy on the terrace, but Braintrust didn’t appear uncomfortable (and probably wasn’t). Although she looked like a normal person, BT was actually an extensive array of clones all sharing a single hive mind. I had known BT most of
