“Unfortunately,” Mouse went on, “she’s out of pocket at the moment, but I’ll get word to her that we need her expertise.”
“Sounds good,” I said. “So, were you able to find out anything at the mansion?”
Mouse nodded. “Looks like your clone Jack tried to manipulate the mansion’s security system – presumably via telekinesis. However, instead of turning the laser off, he boosted it up a notch and ended up getting blasted in the stomach.”
“Well, seeing as how his innards weren’t falling out all over the place, I’m assuming he has an advanced healing ability.”
“Maybe,” Mouse intoned. “You said you sensed that he had other powers. Could you tell what they were?”
I shook my head. “Nothing that we don’t already know about, like the telekinesis and teleportation. However, I did pick up on the fact that he’s not a telepath.”
“That’s interesting,” Mouse remarked, his brow wrinkling in thought. “And he’s been attacking Paramount’s former cronies because he thinks it’s what you want?”
“That’s the way Gray seemed to put it, but I don’t think it’s necessarily true. It’s more like Jack self-identifies with me – if that makes any sense – and views an attack on me as an attack on him.”
“And apparently he views injustice to you as injustice to him.”
“Injustice?” I said, puzzled – and then I realized what he meant. “Oh, you’re talking about Incendia and some of the others getting an early release. Yeah, Jack didn’t seem to care for that.”
“What about you?”
“Me?” I muttered. “What do you mean?”
“Do you feel Paramount’s little syndicate has paid their debt to society?”
“If they’re getting out now, I’d say their punishment was like getting a hundred lashes with a wet noodle.”
“So you’re not wild about it either,” Mouse noted, laughing.
I shrugged, then frowned as a new thought occurred to me. “Do you think we need to put out some kind of warning about Jack?”
Mouse seemed to consider the question for a second, then shook his head. “No, I think it’s enough to just focus on your inner circle for now.”
“Yeah, but I’m starting to feel like a newscaster out on assignment, having to constantly give updates.”
Mouse chuckled. “So basically, you’re tired of having to tell the same story over and over again – maybe to me, then your family, then your friends…”
“Something like that.”
“So what do you want, a Jack-the-Clone hotline, where people can call in and get the latest?”
“It would be a start.”
“Not gonna happen,” Mouse said flatly, although I could sense that he was amused. “Look, I honestly don’t know what you’re complaining about. As a telepath, you can mentally convey almost any story you want in virtually any amount of detail – all in about two seconds. Is it really that tedious?”
I sighed. “It’s not so much telling the same thing again and again. Given the current situation, it’s necessary, and I admit that I can bring people up to speed a lot faster telepathically than I can verbally.”
Mouse gave me a look of incomprehension. “So what’s the problem?”
“In all honesty, I just don’t like spending a lot of time running around inside my friends’ heads,” I confessed. “Things have a tendency to slip through.”
“Huh?” Mouse muttered. “What kind of things?”
“Things a good friend probably wouldn’t tell you, and that you most likely wouldn’t want to hear,” I explained. “I mean, do you really want to know that your friends think you’re a terrible dancer, or that you look stupid in that hat, or they hate your chicken parmesan?”
“Hold on,” Mouse said, looking gravely serious. “You don’t like my chicken parmesan?”
I just stared at him for a moment, and then we both started laughing.
“Okay,” he said a few seconds later, still grinning, “I understand your point. But right now, you’re our fastest and most reliable form of communication regarding this Jack situation. More importantly, you’re also the most secure method at the moment.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, trying to make sense of his statement.
“Well, you said that Jack isn’t telepathic, right? But you are. So, if you make everyone close to you aware of that fact, the next time you’re looking to confirm your identity with them…”
“I just have to communicate with them telepathically,” I blurted out, finishing my mentor’s thought. “And that way everyone will know it’s the real me and not Jack. It’s genius!”
“Well, I wasn’t going to toot my own horn,” Mouse said, with a faux sheepish look on his face. “But if you say so, I’m fine with it.”
We both laughed again, and for about the millionth time I marveled at how well Mouse and I got along, such as our ability to find humor even in serious situations. I wasn’t sure that I’d ever said it out loud, but I counted myself lucky that he was my mentor, and I knew he felt the same with respect to me.
However, this particular meeting of our two-man, mutual admiration society was promptly dismissed when Mouse, after regaining his composure, abruptly stated that he had work to do.
“I’ve got some stuff I still need to look at,” he said. “Why don’t you take off, and I’ll let you know when we can circle up again.”
With no other real options, I agreed and took my leave.
Chapter 56
After departing the lab, I went in search of Myshtal and Smokey. Despite everything that had happened since Vestibule teleported me to her park, I actually hadn’t been gone particularly long – less than two hours. Thus, it wasn’t that surprising that I found my friends exactly where I’d left them: in the teen lounge, presently engaged in a game of table tennis (which Myshtal showed surprising aptitude for).
Upon noting my presence, they cut their
