The Secret of Zormna Clendar by Julie Steimle (great reads .TXT) 📖

unless she found a way to cut off power to their security system. And that was problematic because they had solar panels on the roof. Smart people.

It seemed the only way to see what was going on inside that house was to enter through the front door. But to get in without being seen required that she also wait for Jafarr’s return, and move quickly. Years ago, when she was a cadet, she had done something like it: stepping into a restricted corridor on the heels of a senior officer as a door was open. But it was dangerous, and she would most likely be caught. In her pocket, Zormna carried three bugs she had managed to recalibrate rather than destroy. All she had to do was plant them in the house and get out of there.

So when ‘Jeff’ walked up to his front door that Tuesday—pausing on the front step with a glance at the shadows under the trees with his ear tilted to the wind—she held her breath. Back in her hiding place behind the hedge, Zormna braced for the run.

Then he went in, letting the door swing to close on its own.

She took a breath and rose.

“What are you doing?” asked someone behind her.

Jumping, Zormna grabbed that someone, shoving him into the grass. Darren stared up, breathless.

“You have got to be kidding me! Moron! What are you doing here? Go away!!!” Zormna hissed.

“That’s not the way to talk to a friend,” he said, trying to push her off.

But Zormna peeked back over the hedge. The front door had shut.

Groaning, Zormna clenched her head. “No wonder Jafarr was jumpy.”

Darren frowned at her, pushing her farther off. “Look. Just tell me what you need, and I can help.”

Peering at Darren’s lanky, awkward body, she doubted it. The kid was still playing a game.

“Come on,” he said with a ludicrous smirk. “I’m an expert at spying. I’ve wheedled tons of stuff out of your aunt—and you. Besides, I’ll take the blame if we get caught.”

Someone to blame if caught…. Zormna mulled over this as her gut instinct told her to knock him out then bury him under the garbage in the back alley. However, knowing how thick his skull probably was, abandoning Darren to his own devices out there in the yard would probably be worse than if she used him as a distraction. He was, after all, incorrigible. And impulsive. And if he were caught, Jafarr along with Al would think that about him as well. She could make it so they would only see him.

Taking hold of Darren’s collar, Zormna yanked him down to his knees, pointing one of her fingers in his face. “Fine. You can come in with me. But if you do anything stupid, if you make any noise, I will lay all the blame on you. And I will personally shove that telescope of yours down your throat.”

She shook him again.

Almost choking on his excitement, Darren gave her a wide-eyed nod.

Zormna released him.

Turning back, peering around the hedge at the house, she formulated a do-able plan. “You are going to walk to the front door, and I am going to be right behind you. And I mean right behind. I’ll open the door, and we’ll go in.”

He stared at her as if he had not heard her right. “We’re just going to walk right in?”

“In and out,” Zormna said.

He pointed at the house. “But there are people in there. And Jeff went in.”

Zormna nodded. “That’s right. So if anyone sees you, say, ‘Oops, wrong house.’ And back out quickly.”

He closed his eyes, clearly seeing the danger the plan had for him.

“Do you want to back out?” she asked.

Darren shook his head.

“Ok…” Zormna then peeked around the hedge again. Seeing the open curtains at the front window, she murmured. “On second thought, you crawl over to that window and I’ll meet you there.”

He nodded.

Ducking low and taking it slow, Darren crept quietly across the lawn so that he passed under the front window. The cameras might spot him, but no one in the front room would see him. Zormna went along her side of the hedge to match him. Then, “Irish ninja style” (as Jennifer would say), she leapt over the shrubbery with a flip and landed next to him, low on the grass. She had planned ahead enough that she was wearing the same sweat pants and hoodie as the day before, both gray and non-eye catching, so she hoped that was not easy to see on camera. Zormna nudged Darren to go towards the door, and she followed in his shadow. He was big enough to hide her.

On the concrete step, Zormna listened at the door, wrapping her fingers gently around the doorknob. No signs of people in the front room at least. She turned the knob as silently as she could manage then pushed the door open. It didn’t even creak.

Darren peeked in his head first. Then he looked back and shook his head, mouthing ‘No one.’

Zormna angled her head to listen to the sounds in the front room. Nothing. Not even breathing. In fact, the living room and the one that adjoined it appeared to be empty as he had said. All the sound in the house came from farther back.

Gesturing for Darren to remain silent, fixing a firm glare on him to see if he understood, Zormna slipped inside. Apprehensive, he lingered on the stoop for only a second. Then Darren followed almost close enough to step on Zormna’s heels. She took another step inside just to keep from being trampled on. 

In front of them was exactly what Todd had described: a bare, bleach-steeped room with sparse angular furniture. In fact, it was sickeningly Spartan. A hospital would have felt dirty next to it.

Zormna closed the door so that the catch barely made a sound. Then she glanced about the house, keeping close to the front while peering around corners. She gestured for Darren to get away from her and search somewhere else—anywhere else as long as it was far from where she was. She just had to set the three bugs then get out again.

Treading lightly around the plainly furnished olive green, tweed sofa, glancing at the bare-wood coffee table that divided the room in half, with a matching sofa and a pastoral painting on the far wall, she looked down at the white carpet. The floor was perfectly vacuumed. She could even see the pattern in it. No magazines were on the table. No books were in the room either, though there was a half-filled glass of orange juice resting on a cork coaster next to one of the lamps. Not very many places to hide a bug. However, she slipped one under the lip of the couch.

Quickly, Zormna slid to an inconspicuous spot along the wall, craning her neck while listening to the air. Sounds came from the first room on the left. She slipped closer for an even safer place to listen—because if they opened the door right then, they would see her.

Darren, for all his bragging, was a lousy spy. But then Zormna had expected that. Still a kid playing at an adult game, he looked around uncomfortably, not sure what to do with himself. Quite possibly he was beginning to realize that what they were doing was illegal. He looked to Zormna as she leaned in to hear the faintly raised voices from that first room. She ignored him when he struggled to get her attention. The conversation in the room was getting a little heated, and she wanted to hear it.

“…act now. I don’t want to wait to confirm it. I believe it. I have had enough proof, thank you.” It was Jafarr’s voice.

“I’m with him,” Al chimed in, clearly speaking to a third party in that room. “She’s not going anywhere. It isn’t a trap. She could have contacted the Patrol about us a long time ago, but she hasn’t. I think she is the real deal. She’s a Tarrn.”

Zormna flinched. Her eyes flickered to Darren who clearly could not hear what she was hearing. She looked back to the front door, mentally calculating how quickly she could get to it if she had to.

“Well, I’m not convinced,” that third member replied. He sounded young, perhaps in his twenties or thirties. “There is no way Alea Zormna Clendar is a Tarrn. No way. She is the Zeta District leader for pity’s sake.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Jafarr bit back with a degree of astonishing hostility towards that third person.

“He’s not saying that,” another unfamiliar voice interjected, also on the younger side, also male. He sounded like he was used to calming Jafarr down. “All he is saying is that Zeta District leader has had it in for you. She would do anything to catch you and all your connections. You, yourself, overheard that she was sent on special projects on the moon base.”

“No.” Jafarr sounded irked, but not as hostile to that second man. “I overheard that she was grounded to the moon base. A completely different thing.”

“Fine, but all he is saying is that it is likely she has been sent to ferret out rebellion members over here.”

“She is a threat to us, Jafarr. Alea Zormna would use whatever tactics she had available to her to fulfill her duty.” This was yet another voice. Zormna’s heart pounded as she counted the number in that room to five—five men. The last one also sounded older. His deeper, heavier voice spoke with authority. He had to be the leader.

“Threat….threat,” Jafarr muttered. “Look. I saw the mark. I touched it. It is real. I don’t want to believe it any more than you do, but facts are facts. It is the truth, and we can’t hold off any longer.”

Hold off? They had thought all this was a trap? They had only been waiting because they had assumed she was pretending to be Tarrn? Zormna felt sick. Who would in their right mind would pretend to be a Tarrn? That was nuts.

“How can you possibly be sure it was a real brand? It could have been a fake,” the first unfamiliar voice protested.

“I’d notice,” Jafarr replied acidly.

A woman’s voice cleared her throat—perhaps to be seen and heard with the amount of force she put into it. Then the woman said, “Ok. Suppose she is a Tarrn. In a way it would make sense that the Surface Patrol would take a Tarrn in. That is what they do—take in orphans…and a Tarrn child, if it had survived an attack, would be sent there.”

“Exactly,” Jafarr said.

“But wouldn’t the government screen them upon entrance?” replied the bitter young man whom Jafarr clearly disliked. A similar distaste for that man rose within Zormna’s throat as the man added, “They’d make sure none would survive.”

“Not with who is in charge of the Patrol right now,” Jafarr sharply retorted. “Not with a man like Kevin Desbah. Or for that matter, Alea Arden. They’re Guard Class for pity’s sake.”

“Yeah,” Al said. “Those two admitted Dzhon without so much as fuss at his background.”

“So, you assume the Patrol has been taking in Tarrns? And protecting them?” the older man asked.

Jafarr replied, “I believe it may even be a longstanding practice.”

“Maybe she is the Kevin’s favorite for that reason,” the woman mused aloud. “That man is not usually partial to one soldier over another.”

Jafarr just grunted.

“I don’t think being a Tarrn can have too much a factor on that,” Al broke in, chuckling darkly. “She is the best pilot in the Patrol, even better than the Kevin’s son. Her adult rating is higher than I have ever seen. That alone is enough. Besides, you know she rose in ranks from Aver to Alea in just two years.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve all seen her record,” Jafarr muttered contemptuously.

Something heavy thumped against the wall like someone slumping. It startled Zormna. She jerked back then inched closer to the hallway door, treading lightly on the carpet near