In addition to being fragile, human children were also voracious, absurdly so for their size. Before the sun had even reached its peak in the sky, the boy was complaining of hunger again. Mirloc had another full day and then some before he was due to deliver the boy to his acquaintance, so he decided he had best procure a more substantial supply of provisions if he wished to survive that time with his sanity intact.
Leaving the boy locked in the room once more, the mercenary went out and found a market the size of a modest skyport, in which there were entire sections dedicated solely to sustaining the young. He studied the endless aisles of foodstuffs and supplies for a few incredulous minutes before deciding it was nigh on a miracle that humans didn't die of exhaustion before their pitiful offspring reached maturity.
He selected an assortment of items based on the children pictured in the labels—all smiling brats with similar expressive round eyes—as well as a book of pictures to keep the boy occupied. When he was content, he had proved to be an industrious sort, carefully studying every inch of his quarters that he could reach before learning how to amuse himself by throwing the colorful object Mirloc had stolen in the park at the forcefield in the door and watching it bounce off helter-skelter.
This was indeed what the boy was doing when Mirloc returned to the house. After inhaling more food, the child took an interest in the picture book and it wasn't long before he'd left a sticky finger mark on every page. When he reached the end, he began again, leafing through more slowly. His little pinch grip was tight, leaving a new crease in the paper with each turn. at one point, silent tears began dribbling down his face and Mirloc decided to investigate.
The boy looked up in alarm at Mirloc's approach, but the mercenary ignored his wet eyes and looked down at the book in his hands instead. On the page was a dark shape, literally just a large brown square with shifty eyes and two short legs, unusual nonsense even for a child.
"Does this picture frighten you?" Mirloc asked.
The boy shook his head. "This is Daddy's book," he said, pointing at the brown square. Another tear rolled down and he scrubbed his arm across his face with a sniffle, but after a moment, his weeping began in earnest.
A distraction was in order, but Mirloc had no interest in reading about an anthropomorphic shape the color of loam. However, if human children were like other types of children he had known, then any yarn would do.
"Would you like to hear a different story?" he asked.
The day went from too long to too short in an instant.
After a fruitless afternoon in the search for Sky, a lead finally came through in the evening, albeit a tenuous one. The manager of a superstore on the east side of town had filed a theft report with the PD after noticing a most unusual thief while reviewing the day's security footage. Gene had in turn shared the report with SPD immediately when he noticed the kinds of items that had been taken—baby food, cereal, cookies, a picture book, and some children's clothing.
Jay reviewed the footage with Nate and Mori in the command center. It showed a distinctly non-human character wandering through several aisles of the store before he began plucking items off the shelves. Each one he selected seemed to disappear into thin air before he moved on to the next. The three Rangers exchanged puzzled looks.
"Maybe he has a picky kid at home?" Nate mused when the perp paused in the cereal aisle to look up and down the literal wall of choices.
"Or a few?" said Mori. "The target age for those supplies ranges from zero to four or five. The cereal's kind of a tossup. My guess though? He doesn't have a clue what he's doing."
They continued watching as the perp went on to pick up some nonfood items, then entered an unoccupied aisle in the home décor section and vanished.
"Hey!" Jay slapped the control to pause the video. "Where'd he go?"
They reversed the video and re-watched the segment several times before Mori had the sensible idea to slow the playback speed. It took several tries and adjustments, but finally they were able to see that the creature hadn't vanished into thin air after all, but into one of the decorative mirrors on display.
Jay was vaguely aware of his teammates watching his reaction, but all he could think of was the mirror in Sky's room at home. It was part of an old dresser that held Sky's clothes and spare blankets. If this creature, whatever he was, had in fact taken Sky, was that mirror the way he had gotten in and out of the house unseen and unheard? What exactly happened to the things he made disappear that way?
Elsewhere in the Delta Base, Kat was running a facial match against SPD's vast databanks. So far nothing had come up, but the perp's image had been shared with all PD and SPD units anyway. If nothing else, he could be picked up on shoplifting charges.
As Jay watched him in the video though, troubled by the purple skin and sinister eyes, he wasn't sure whether or not to hope this was the person who had his son after all.
The boy awoke crying in the middle of the night, frightened by bad dreams and refusing to go back to sleep. Perhaps the mercenary's earlier stories of nebular serpents and walking shadow monsters had not been the best choice.
Mirloc went to the washroom to wet a cloth and wiped the day's grime off the boy's face along with his tears. The cold dampness made him shiver, but the gesture seemed to soothe him nonetheless. Mirloc then squeezed the cloth hard to wring a single droplet of water into his palm. It lit up with a golden light that matched the glow of the mercenary's eyes.
Curiosity trumped fear as the child crawled out from the safety of the bedclothes towards Mirloc's hand. The light from the droplet reflected in his widened eyes like twin candles, making them look almost as yellow as Mirloc's own.
"Is it magic?" he asked.
Few places in the universe had a word for what Mirloc could do, and Earth was not one of them. He said no and braced himself for more questions, but they never came. Instead, the boy lifted his own hand and that mysterious blue energy he had demonstrated the day before flashed briefly around his small digits.
"I can too," he said.
Mirloc glanced at the shielding device around the boy's waist and wondered if this might be the time to solve that particular mystery. "Will you show me if I remove this?" He tapped the device with a finger.
The boy nodded.
Hoping he wouldn't regret his decision, Mirloc unfastened the device and laid it aside. The boy made a fist and this time the blue light rippled and pulsed uninhibited around his entire forearm. He moved it in a clumsy circle to create a translucent blue wall that hung in midair like nebulae out in space. His young eyes were narrowed in un-childlike concentration.
Mirloc cautiously stretched a hand towards the glowing wall and was astonished to feel neither heat nor the potent charge of electricity emanating from it. Then he remembered what the boy had said about the forcefield in the doorway.
The child was a living weapon.
The mercenary stopped just short of touching the blue energy—because that would have been foolhardy—and when he dropped his hand, so did the boy. The blue wall dissipated in an instant, gone like it had never been, and the child seemed unaffected by the effort.
"That is very good," Mirloc said. "You have a very special power."
"What yours?" the boy wanted to know.
"I can travel through reflective surfaces." From the child's blank stare, it was clear this explanation was beyond his comprehension, so Mirloc tried a different one. "Anywhere I can see my own face, no matter how small—" He gestured at the water droplet in his palm. "—I can use it to go anywhere I wish."
"Anywhere in the world?"
"Anywhere in the universe."
The boy's eyes widened. "How?" he demanded.
"How do you make your forcefields?"
"Science."
That was not an answer the mercenary had expected at all. "How do you know that?"
"Mommy says so."
Not his Ranger father, Mirloc noted.
"I want to go home," the child said, a whine creeping into his voice just as Mirloc was starting to find him tolerable, amusing even.
"Only if you behave," the mercenary reminded him. "If you like, I can tell you a story about my home."
The boy nodded eagerly, so Mirloc sifted through his memories for an appropriate one. Thus far, his life had involved far more stories of darkness than of light, but the latter were not forgotten even if it took him several moments to find his way back to them, back to the time before he began wandering the stars. Few knew—and most would not believe when they looked at him—that his life had begun in a place of light and of great beauty.
The memory he finally chose was older than this babe could ever fathom. It was of a place with three suns, shining walls, and heat so fierce, it scraped your insides to breathe it in. It was the last place Mirloc had known peace, and belonging, and the last time he had walked in light instead of dark.
As the mercenary recalled this fondest place, the child fell asleep and did not wake again until the sun had risen.