“I belong to the NKV, as you have no doubt surmised.”
“What?” Cyrus asked.
The man turned to Mr. Shiny Suit and raised an eyebrow.
“He doesn’t know about the NKV or the Conscription Act,” Mr. Shiny Suit said.
“Explain it to him.”
Mr. Shiny Suit scowled, but nodded and managed a false smile. He took a step toward Cyrus.
“You can call me Jasper,” the man said.
“What’s this about?” Cyrus asked.
“That’s easy enough to answer,” Jasper said. “These two men are NKV agents and I’m a Special.”
Cyrus’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re suspicious about us,” Jasper told him. The little fat man spoke as if he was a card shark explaining his tricks. “What’s more, you think my suit looks ridiculous and that these two gentlemen must belong to a gang you’ve never heard of.”
Cyrus’s eyes widened for just a moment. Then he became wary and smiled. “How’d you do that?” Every con artist had his methods.
“I read the information in your mind,” Jasper said.
“I don’t believe you.”
“No? Well, I’m a telepath.”
“Don’t know what that is,” Cyrus said. “Tell me. What am I thinking now?”
“That one plus one equals two,” Jasper said.
Shock filled Cyrus’s face. He’d been thinking exactly that. It was time to get out of here. He pointed his vibrio-knife at the two NKV agents. “Thanks for the help. I’ll be seeing you around.”
“No,” said the one who had talked before. “You’re coming with us. That’s why we came to Milan.”
“Sure,” Cyrus said. He’d expected something like this. These three must be sex-fiends and they wanted to kidnap him for their vile games. He flicked on his vibrio-knife and launched himself at the nearest gunman.
Both black-clad men lifted their shiny weapons and pressed the firing buttons. Nothing happened because Cyrus had shorted each gun. He almost reached the nearest man with his knife. Just before he did, something hit him inside his head. It hurt, and it exploded darkness in his mind. The fat one must be doing this, the telepath. Cyrus tried to adjust, but the darkness spread throughout his mind.
He lost consciousness and sprawled onto the warehouse floor, his knife clattering as it skidded across the cement.
The NKV lieutenant stared at Cyrus Gant. Abruptly, he turned toward Jasper.
“You’re very welcome,” Jasper said. It was enjoyable seeing the lieutenant’s fear. Let him think about that for a while.
Without a word, the lieutenant reached into a pocket and brought out a device with a single switch. He used his thumb and pressed it.
Jasper felt the inhibitor buzz in his head. The psych-chief had told him before that he wasn’t actually hearing anything. The noise was psychosomatic. Whatever… It was there, and it dampened his ability to read minds.
This is the thanks I get?
“He’s deadly,” the lieutenant said, meaning the kid. “He attacked without warning. I would never trust this one. He’s worse than an animal.”
“Do you trust me?” Jasper couldn’t help asking.
The lieutenant ignored the question. “Maybe we should shoot him and report that these riffraff killed him before we could interfere.”
“Ah… don’t forget about me,” Jasper said. “I’m a witness to this.”
The lieutenant faced him. “This youth is an animal. Did you see how fast he attacked? He would have killed all of us.”
“No,” Jasper said, “just you two. I had everything under control.”
“He wrecked our weapons with a thought,” the lieutenant said. “What is he?”
Your superior, you mental weakling, Jasper thought. He is humanity’s future and you’re its failure.
“Are you sure he’s unconscious?” the lieutenant asked.
“For the next few hours,” Jasper said.
“What did you do to him?”
“Turn off the inhibitor and I’ll show you.”
The lieutenant tried to stare Jasper down.
Although the lieutenant belonged to the NKV, was bigger and obviously physically many times more dangerous, Jasper stared back calmly. He even smiled at the man.
Jasper knew all about the Conscription Act. The lieutenant didn’t dare harm him. There were only 143 like him. Those 143 could do the most amazing thing in the universe with the new Teleships. It was changing everything for humanity… as long as the 143 Specials played along.
The lieutenant dropped his gaze and turned to the other agent. “Give me a hand,” he said. “We need to get this animal to the air-car before he wakes up.”
And so I gather one more Special to my cause, Jasper thought. One more Special to hate the Normals for their heavy-handed injustice. All I need now is a way to short out the inhibitor.
3
The NKV lieutenant had called Cyrus Gant an animal, no doubt meaning it would prove impossible to teach him anything.
If that’s what the lieutenant meant, he was wrong. Cyrus had abnormal street cunning gained through a short but brutal lifetime of hunger, face slaps, stomach punches, and savage kicks to the ribs, head, and groin, to say little about his various beatings. The key to his survival and later his thriving in Level 40 had been an ability to adapt, or as the ancients would have said, to roll with the punches. It also helped that he’d developed a fierce desire to lead, if for no other reason so he wouldn’t have to listen to others tell him what to do.
He rolled now in Psi Force, taking things as they came. They shaved his scalp and gave him a fine network of scars along his head. They put inhibitor netting under his skull so they could switch his powers on and off. To the Normals—as his teachers referred to the rest of humanity—he was like dangerous nuclear material that needed the most careful of handling.
Psi Force’s teaching facility was located on the island of Crete. Premier Lang’s people had removed everyone else and set up an elaborate security arrangement. Most of the listening posts and SAM sites were well out of sight, but fully operational around the clock. The school was composed of six marble-colored buildings. There were wild vines surrounding the institute, steep hills, and many scenic bicycle paths. Birds sang in the trees and fluffy white clouds filled the sky.
Cyrus could stand for hours watching clouds. It was amazing. There had never been anything like this in Level 40. The stars… they were a wonder beyond belief. He’d never realized the Earth held such beauty or fantastic odors.
After a week, he realized no one planned to attack him in secret. Even so, he kept a hidden knife on his person at all times—just in case matters should change. They had outlandishly changed once already, why not again for the worse?
At first, he didn’t mind the inhibitor because he didn’t think about it. He soaked up knowledge. He trained in the latest hand-to-hand combat, learned about mind shields, strengthening his gift and so many other new and amazing things.
And the tests. Pretty women administered them. He learned later that they used the beautiful women because he responded so positively to them. Jasper had picked that up in his mind.
His teachers taught him to read. He learned history, math, and biology. Advanced teaching techniques worked like magic with him. Premier Lang ensured that Psi Force had the very best of everything. It made a difference.
His teachers wanted him smart. He soon discovered it had nothing to do with him and everything with enhancing his power. The reason proved fantastic and mind-bending. He only understood the mind-bending part when he learned about Einsteinian physics. Nothing could go faster than the speed of light—that was interesting. But it also didn’t quite mean what it sounded like, at least not anymore.
Seventeen years ago, there had been a serendipitous occurrence near Neptune. It happened in a miles-long science lab where people had created the first “discontinuity window” in the solar system.
The discontinuity win
dow was a rip in normal space. That rip joined two distant spots in space. While the DW—discontinuity window—remained open, anything passing through it could instantly move from the one point in space to the other.
The trick was in making the DW. It took a precise combination of powerful AIs merged with human clairvoyant and telekinetic abilities. Together, the mechanical and biological systems joined two separate points in space. The real trick came in how far apart those two separate points were from each other. That depended on the Special’s power.
The strongest Special could join two points in space 8.3 light years apart. Anything moving through the opening then went from point A to point B. In the instance above, the object would move 8.3 light years. The discontinuity window bypassed Einsteinian physics, thereby giving humanity an effective interstellar drive. In other words, it now became possible to travel between the stars just as science fiction authors had always predicted.
The problem or drawback was the paltry number of Specials. It was the reason why Premier Lang scoured the solar system for more. And it was the reason why Cyrus Gant had been ripped out of the worst slum on Earth and given the best education money could buy.
Two moments three years apart at the institute proved critical to Cyrus’s future. Each involved Jasper. The first occurred six months and three days after Cyrus’s arrival. He was down by the shore in the nearest bay, skipping stones over the wine-colored sea.
Cyrus wasn’t thinking about anything in particular. The tests had stopped and he missed the pretty women with their short skirts and tanned legs. He’d filled out size-wise with all the eating, although he remained lean. In the slums, he had cultivated an arrogant attitude. It had been as vital as toughness, and quickness with a blade. Here such arrogance didn’t help. Cyrus had long ago learned to blend in with his surroundings, as a leopard would as it hunted prey. Even so, there remained a core wolfishness to him impossible to completely submerge. He had a way of eyeing everything and he hated anyone taking him by surprise. It didn’t happen often, and it didn’t happen on this particular day.
Cyrus saw Jasper riding a cart along the white sands of the shore. The telepath wore a shiny suit and a flattish hat. He looked the same as the day down in Level 40. Cyrus hadn’t seen him since then, although he’d heard about Jasper. Several of his friends had warned him about the Special Second Class. They thought Jasper was strange, with much too high an opinion of himself.
Jasper brought his cart to a halt ten feet from Cyrus. The man kept his pudgy fingers wrapped around the steering wheel.
Cyrus’s boots were nearby. He was barefoot and had rolled up his pant legs. He held a stone, a flat one for skipping.
“Afternoon,” Cyrus said.
Jasper nodded. “Do you remember me?”
“Sure.”
“I saved your life in the warehouse.”
Cyrus thought about that. “Thanks.”
“And I helped them turn you into a slave.”
Cyrus smiled. It wasn’t wide. It never was. Life had been too hard for him to change that quickly. “I’ve read about slavery,” he said. “Where’s my collar?”
Jasper tapped his head. “They hid it from you. They turn you on and off at will. What you think about that?”
“I’d rather be here than in Level 40.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” Cyrus asked the question in a regular tone, but there was heat in his mind. The slums had taught him to hide his emotions and to strike without warning.
“Kid, I looked into your mind, remember? I’m the best at what I do. I know an alpha when I spot one.”
“Mind telling me what an alpha is?”
“You already know. You’re not the kind to take orders, but to give them. You’ve never lived by the rules, but broke them at will to serve your own needs.”
“Never had any choice before,” Cyrus said.
“Yes you did. You broke the law when you fled the orphanage.”
“I had no choice,” Cyrus said, and there was iron his tone.
“Do you know how many thousands of kids succumb to perverts every day?” Jasper asked. “You were powerless and alone in the orphanage, and you skipped out because you didn’t like how they were about to treat you. Right now, you’re having fun in Crete. I don’t blame you. But do you know what’s in store for you?”
“Sure. I’m the key to mankind’s future.”
Jasper laughed in a mocking way. “Good, good, the piece of hardware named Cyrus Gant loves its job. How pathetic is that?”
“What’s your problem?” Cyrus asked.
Jasper tapped his head. “This is my problem. I’m the most powerful man on Earth and they’ve chained me like a ferret. We’re the new breed. We’re superior to them, and they’re harnessing us as if we’re water running down a hill. We’re slaves, Cyrus. I don’t like being a slave. If they want my help, ask me, pay me, but don’t put an inhibitor in my head that dampens my abilities. Do you like having an inhibitor in your head?”
Cyrus stared at the man in his shiny suit. Jasper had a point.
“No. I don’t like the inhibitor.”
“Finally, you’re beginning to see what’s going on,” Jasper said. “I just hope you stay awake.”
“What’s that mean?”
Jasper started up his cart. “See you around, kid. Try to remember that however nice they’re treating you, you’re just a component in a starship for them. If you try to gain your freedom, they’ll cut you down in pure terror. The Homo Simpletons hate and fear us, and for good reason. Compared to them, we’re gods.”
Cranking the steering wheel, Jasper turned the cart and drove away, leaving a thoughtful Cyrus Gant to stare at the expanse of sea.
The days merged into months. Cyrus continued to soak up facts and train his ability. His proved less powerful than most of the others. He was a Fourth Class Special, barely better than a Normal. His teachers rated his ability to shift at 0.8 light years. It was better than building up velocity the old-fashioned way, but nothing compared to Venice with her 8.3 light years.
In a starship, the same setup time and power was used to create a discontinuity window that bridged 0.8 as 8.3 light years. Efficiency meant that 8.3 was ten times better.
The only other factor to shifting was a Special’s rest time. Some shifters needed a week between each psionic attempt. Others could shift again in several hours. No one had identical abilities, just as no one had the same fingerprints.
Throughout the months, Cyrus found himself studying slavery. The idea repulsed him. He was a man, not chattel or property. Jasper was right. No one had ever asked him if he wanted to power a starship. No one told him how long he would be doing this before he retired. The insinuation was clear: He’d do it until they were through with him.
In his private study of slave history, Cyrus found several literary heroes. His favorite was Spartacus. Now there had been a man. He’d taken on tough Roman legions and whipped their butts with gladiators turned soldier. That was impressive. He liked reading about Marten Kluge, too. The man hadn’t accepted the status quo, but overturned the entire cart. The weirdest story was about Moses leading Egyptian-held slaves into Judea. Had Moses used psionics to part the Red Sea, or did God exist? It was an interesting question.
Am I a slave?
Cyrus learned his lessons with new determination. He tried to read up on inhibitors, but that was taboo, he’d found. There was so much to learn, to soak up and remember. He tried. He talked much differently than he had with his Milanese patois. But deep down he knew he was still the knife man of the slums.
The second memorable meeting with Jasper occurred three years and five days after his capture. He had been a wild thing down in Level 40. The NKV’s arrival had saved his life. That was important to remember. But did that mean he had to spend the rest of his life in a gilded cage?
Cyrus sat cross-legged in a large, empty room with white walls. It had a permanent in
hibitor switch in the ceiling, meaning a Special’s psi-abilities worked in here. This was a practice room for mind shielding, mind bolts, and other psionic training. Through various spy devices, NKV agents carefully monitored the chamber, but it was a good place to sit and think.
A door opened and a short, overweight man in a shiny suit walked in.
Cyrus noticed, but he didn’t raise an eyebrow or show any other sign of seeing the man.
Jasper approached, stopping several feet in front of Cyrus.
“Long time,” Jasper said.
Cyrus grunted.
Jasper’s eyes began to shine.
By now, Cyrus knew the signs and concentrated on his mind shield. He felt a presence intruding in his thoughts. It was an oily sensation as if smothering his skin. He ignored the feeling as he strengthened his shield, pushing the presence out.
“Not bad,” Jasper said. “Try this.”
Cyrus winced as the mental stab hit, and a groan escaped his lips. He loathed making any noise as a concession to pain, but he refused to panic because of the stronger attack. Instead, he concentrated until sweat slicked his forehead. Stubbornly, he fought against the encroachment in his mind.
“Say hello to me,” Jasper said.
Without his willing it, Cyrus’s right hand shot up, and he waved to Jasper.
“Stand up when your betters enter the room,” Jasper said.
Cyrus almost stood, but he grinded his teeth together and his eyelids flickered. Sweat pooled on his face and a drip fell from his nose, then a second one.
“Bastard,” Cyrus muttered.
“You have the will, but you need newer techniques. Not that it would keep me out for long, but you’d do better than you are now.”
A third drop of sweat fell to the floor.
Jasper blinked, and his eyes returned to their normal color.
Gasping, partly slumping over, Cyrus felt the beginning of a pounding headache. This one was going to be bad, maybe the worst he’d ever had.
“Do you remember what we talked about last time?” Jasper asked.
Cyrus looked up. There were splotches in his vision. He had to concentrate in order to keep from vomiting. But there was no way he was going to show weakness before the telepath.
Alien Honor (A Fenris Novel) Page 3