Fires of Man

by Dan Levinson

  In that moment, she saw her entire life spread out before her. And she wanted to fall to her knees and weep. The breadth of her existence had led up to one a seminal choice.

  Had she chosen wrong?

  Should she have gone with Tiberian?

  The flames advanced, roaring like some behemoth born of a nightmare, death embodied in a pure and ferocious blaze.

  No, her mind screamed with all the power she could muster.

  It wasn’t over! Not by a long shot!

  From somewhere deep within her, she drew more and more power—strength she never knew she had. The heat closed in around her, ponderous, ready to engulf her, yet somehow she held it at bay. Everything she had been through couldn’t be for nothing. She wouldn’t allow that!

  She wouldn’t just give up!

  The entire world became a roiling sea of flame. Her barrier was unable to keep out the full brunt of the fire, and she could smell her hair beginning to sizzle—an acrid stench. Then the fire found her flesh, searing across her skin.

  She howled in agony. Her mind had time for one last, frantic thought.

  Escape!

  And the world winked out, like a light being extinguished . . .

  As her power took her far, far away.

  47

  NYNE

  “Then you don’t deny disobeyin’ the orders of Major Leon Kolver, of Orion Intelligence?”

  “I don’t,” Nyne said.

  He met the eyes of Major Wright of the OAFAD—the investigating officer conducting Nyne’s Article 32 hearing. Though his Southern twang had initially put Nyne off guard, Wright was every bit as sharp and shrewd as a man in his position needed to be.

  “Any extenuatin’ circumstances you’d like to share?” Wright asked.

  Nyne’s gaze flickered to Kolver, who sat across the conference room table. When Kolver caught him looking, he sneered.

  “No,” Nyne said.

  “Tell them,” Nyne’s lawyer—a blonde female captain—said.

  Nyne took a deep breath. He glanced from Kolver to Wright and back again.

  “No,” he repeated.

  “You have to tell them,” his lawyer said.

  Everyone in the room was read in on the Psi Corps. There was no need for secrets here.

  “I have nothing more to say,” Nyne said.

  His lawyer turned to Wright. “I’d like a moment to confer with my client,” she said.

  Wright nodded.

  His lawyer took him aside, to the corner of the room, and spoke to him in a whisper. “We’ve been over this,” she said. “Tell them why you didn’t report what you found. Tell them about what you learned. When you do, I have no doubt that all this will blow over.”

  Nyne knew his lawyer was right. If he explained that he’d disobeyed in order to gain Ishimoto’s trust, and discover how to use psionics for medical purposes, he might be let off with a warning.

  But Ishimoto had become more than a teacher; he’d become a true mentor, and a friend. So Nyne wasn’t about to lie, and claim he’d been using Ishimoto. He wouldn’t betray his sensei like that. He’d kept Kolver in the dark because he hadn’t been able to stand the thought of what would happen to those kids if he told the truth. And that’s the story he was sticking to.

  He shook his head.

  “Please reconsider,” his lawyer said.

  “We’ve been over this enough times,” he said. “I won’t change my mind.” If he was demoted, fine. In all his time in the military, he’d never once compromised himself. And he wasn’t going to start now.

  He and his lawyer sat back down at the table. “So, somethin’ else?” Wright asked.

  Nyne’s lawyer shook her head. “Despite my strong, repeated advice, my client has decided to remain silent on the matter of justification for his action.”

  “All right, then,” Wright said. “That about concludes the hearing. Is there anything more you’d like to say before we adjourn, Major?”

  “Yes,” Nyne said, “there is.”

  “Go on.”

  “I won’t deny that I disobeyed a direct command from Major Kolver. But I did so for what I felt were the right reasons. I was asked to do something that went against my moral compass. And the Orion Armed Forces I know would never ask me to do something like that.”

  “Were you asked to commit a criminal act, Major Allen?” Wright asked.

  “A crime? No,” Nyne said.

  “Then, touchin’ as your moral quandary is, I can’t see any basis for your personal feelings to counter the need for a court-martial, in this instance,” Wright said.

  Kolver looked triumphant.

  Nyne wanted to strangle the bastard.

  “We’re done for now,” Wright said. “Major, outside your duties, you’re confined to the base until trial. Got that?”

  “I do,” Nyne said.

  Wright and Nyne’s lawyer left the room. Before he exited, Kolver paused at the door. “This is only the beginning, Allen,” he said. “I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts.”

  “Yeah, sure. Enjoy being an asshole,” Nyne said.

  “What?” Kolver stepped back into the room.

  “You heard me,” Nyne said. “You’re on a power trip. Disliked me from day one because I didn’t bow down to mighty Major Kolver.” He smiled. “So, go ahead. Do your worst. I’ll know it’s out of spite. Because you know I’m a better soldier, a better man than you’ll ever be. I don’t care if I get demoted. I’ll still have my soul.”

  Kolver bulled forward, a vein popping on his forehead. “You’re gonna pay extra for that little speech,” he spat.

  Nyne met Kolver’s eyes, his own gaze dark and furious. “You’re welcome to try me,” he said, just daring the other man to do something; make a move; take a swing. He knew Kolver never would, but he hoped for it, just the same.

  Kolver hesitated, then took a step back.

  Disgusted, Nyne brushed past him, and left the room.

  After he left central command, he decided to walk the twenty minutes to Jouka’s residential section. It was almost 1600, and the day had begun to cool. His eyes traced across the blue skies above, the puffs of white clouds.

  Why had it all worked out like this?

  Not for the first time, he wished he’d never left Grisham. Never left Kay. Yet, if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have made some incredible discoveries. On the other hand, Ishimoto and his students might still be safe, and free.

  Had there ever been a right decision? Or did each branching path simply lead to its own set of tragedies? His disillusionment with the military had been building for a long time, but now it had come to a head. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Kolver he didn’t care if he were demoted.

  He didn’t care about any of it, anymore. He didn’t believe, anymore.

  There was nothing left for him here. He’d been unable to protect anyone, save anyone, the same as it had been in Grisham. All the helplessness he’d fled from had followed him to Kaito.

  He arrived at his small Western-style house with an off-white wood façade. Inside, he opened his fridge and grabbed a beer. He didn’t know what else to do, except drink.

  Only, as he passed by the answering machine on the counter, he saw the light blinking.

  He hit play.

  “Hey, N, um . . . it’s me,” said Kay’s voice.

  He froze.

  “Listen, some . . . crazy shit went down today,” she continued. “I won’t go into it, because I’m sure you’ll hear soon enough, but . . . um . . . It got me thinking.”

  Slowly, he felt the strength leave his legs as he listened to her talk. He collapsed onto a stool, resting his head in the palm of his hand. Yet again, he wondered what the hell he was doing here. As he listened to her say those three magic words—“I love you”—once, and then again, and again, all he wanted was to be back in Orion. When the call ended, all he could think about was knocking on her door, taking her in his arms, kissing her . . . and saying to her all the thing
s he wanted to say.

  Of course he still loved her; he didn’t think he’d ever be able to stop. He forgave her, too. Despite how deeply he’d been hurt, he couldn’t stay upset, not after that call. But he needed her to know that part of it had been his fault, too. She couldn’t take the blame all by herself. If only he’d listened to her, respected her boundaries, and backed off when she’d asked, none of this might have happened.

  Then again, perhaps this distance had been for the best. Maybe it would bring them closer, in the end.

  His head swimming with possibilities, Nyne opened a canned Kaitanese beer from the fridge. It was standard, bland—nothing compared to the craft beers back home—but he was too distracted to care; he enjoyed the bite of carbonation at the back of his throat.

  He wondered if this court-martial might actually be the best thing that could’ve happened to him. If he played it right, and talked to Colonel Bringham, he thought he might be able to get his old position back. He’d gladly take the demotion back to captain if it meant a chance to be with Kay again.

  Nyne paced, walking from kitchen, to living room, and back, sipping his beer. Hope and fear, joy and doubt swirled through him, each in equal parts. There were no guarantees, not with Kay, not with his job, or a transfer back; not with any of it.

  It didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

  He glanced at the clock, wanting to call Kay, but he knew it would be just after 0400 in Grisham. He didn’t want to leave her a voicemail. He wanted to talk to her in person. Hear her voice.

  Absently, he played the answering machine message again. It killed him to hear the pain she was in, yet he couldn’t help reveling in hearing those three little words. I love you.

  He drained the last of his can, and grabbed another. Feeling a need to distract himself, he dropped down on the couch, and flipped on the TV. There was only one Western channel available on his cable—a news station. And he hated the news. It was a testament to his need for some kind of diversion. For one minute, he watched political pundits yammer back and forth about the state of the nation.

  Then . . .

  “We interrupt today’s episode of Politics Live for a special report,” said a female anchor.

  A shot of Grisham from the air filled his screen.

  What . . . the . . . hell?

  Nyne stood, gaping at his screen.

  What the hell had happened?

  “God,” he whispered.

  Where the military base had stood, Nyne could see rubble, still smoldering. He paled, fear tearing through him.

  “ . . . Officials have yet to release any details on the cause of this terrible accident,” the newscaster’s voice said. “However, preliminary reports have come in that an earthquake struck Grisham at approximately four a.m. which, some insiders believe, triggered some sort of accidental explosion in the military base, resulting in a devastating collapse. There’s no word on the death toll, but it is expected to be in the hundreds or greater. More as this story develops . . .”

  The remote dropped from Nyne’s nerveless fingers.

  “Kay,” he uttered. His voice sounded hoarse, choked, to his ears. “Oh, God . . . Kay!”

  It took him one second to make his decision.

  He ran upstairs and began to pack.

  Screw the military! Screw all of it! What had they ever done for him? What did any of it matter anymore? None of it was important, not without her in the world! In his world.

  As he threw clothes into a bag, he ran down the inevitable list of questions. Was she alive? Had she been there, caught in that mess? Was she hurt?

  If she was injured, could he help her?

  He knew he could. With what Ishimoto had taught him, he could save her!

  Nyne tried to zip his duffel bag, but his fingers felt stiff from shock. An awful sinking sensation pervaded him, like drowning in an endless sea.

  He looked down at his hands.

  Was he really going to just leave? Was he just deluding himself that there was anything he could actually do?

  No, there was no time to think about that now. Kay could be dying at that very moment, and here he was on the other side of the fucking world!

  I never should’ve come here, he thought. I should be there with her! I should . . . His hands tightened into fists, his knuckles cracking. He knew that if he’d been in Grisham for . . . whatever this was, he could very well be dead. Then how would he be able to help Kay?

  Still, that did nothing to ease his remorse. He had to get home as soon as possible. He would use the gift Ishimoto had given him to save Kay, and all the others. So many people he had known—Kay, Crasz, Colonel Bringham, even Private Finn—could all be gone.

  He had to do something. He had to try!

  He finished throwing some odds and ends into the front pocket of the duffel, then headed down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  He stopped at the front door.

  If he did this, his career in the military really was finished. He would either be locked up or demoted to the bottom of the food chain, put into a dead-end position.

  It didn’t matter.

  Once, a very long time ago, Nyne had wanted to be an architect. He had wanted to build things. In the Orion Armed Forces, all he had ever learned to do was destroy. He was so sick of all the bureaucracy, the growing realization that in the vast entity of the Orion military he was only one small cell, so impotent, so inconsequential.

  They could call him a deserter, but Nyne would not be part of this any longer.

  Some things were more important.

  “Please be alive,” he whispered, as if somehow Kay could hear him. “I’m coming, I swear, so please . . . Hang on . . .”

  He shook his head. He couldn’t allow himself to consider that she was dead for one more second.

  Nyne opened himself to his power, let his eyes unfocus, seeing beyond sight.

  On the other side of the door, he observed the two soldiers, set to make sure he didn’t leave the premises. He saw the ebb and flow of their bodily rhythms. With a sliver of psionic energy, Nyne reached out and touched their minds, intuitively altering their circadian equilibrium.

  In seconds, both guards were asleep.

  Nyne refracted light, making himself invisible, then yanked open the door.

  He was going AWOL; going back to Orion.

  And he would find Kay.

  No matter what.

  48

  AARON

  Aaron stared up at the desert sky, his eyes watering.

  He had been going on for what felt like days. He had no food, no water. His only company was boundless sand and blistering sun. Heat shimmers rose from the sun-baked terrain, and Aaron thanked God for his thick boots.

  After that last terrifying moment, Aaron had found himself here, trapped in this barren expanse. There was not a person or creature in sight. He had no sense of time or place.

  He had wandered for a time, gauging the sun’s movement until he was certain of his direction. He headed north, toward home—toward Calchis.

  How long could this desert possibly go on for?

  How long would he be able to last out here?

  It dawned on him that this was far worse than the time he had spent in the cell. At least there he had been given food, water, shelter. There, he had needed only to survive another day and another. Here, if he did not find his way to safety, and soon, he would die.

  The first night amid the sands was the worst.

  Eventually, he found a stone outcropping, and he took shelter beneath it from the frigid winds that howled across the landscape. How could a place be so hot during the day and so cold at night? After what must have been a few hours of fitful slumber, Aaron was awakened by a scuffing, shuffling sound. In the darkness he saw a half dozen slitted golden eyes peering at him, approaching swiftly.

  He got up and ran.

  The group of lizards gave chase, shimmying on their bellies, croaking out strange grunts. Aaron was too fast for them,
but even after they were long out of sight, he did not stop running.

  He wandered until sunrise.

  As the sky began to lighten in the east, he found he had been going in the wrong direction. When he realized this, hopelessness descended on him, an immense weight.

  What was he going to do?

  He prayed for deliverance, for rescue, for a second chance. Had he done something wrong to be punished like this? He had always tried to do what was right, so why?

  Thoughts of the red-cloaked figure surfaced.

  That voice had asked him if he wanted to live and then abandoned him to the elements. Why would it have done that if it was real? No, he had been going insane, he decided. In a last desperate fit of madness, he had somehow used his power to transport himself to safety. What other explanation was there?

  Surely, if that phantom actually existed, it would have helped him by now.

  Perhaps that was why Aaron was stuck here; he was a murderer. He must have killed that boy, the would-be mugger in Chiron. In denial, he had convinced himself it was the work of some imaginary fiend. If that was not true, it meant Aaron was a killer. Now he was reaping his just reward.

  In a strange way, that made him feel a little better. This could be his atonement. God would forgive him after this, so long as he paid for his sins and repented in his heart.

  Aaron trudged onward, deciding to be strong, to face the end with dignity. What would Clyde Coburn do in this situation? He would keep on fighting until he could fight no longer. Aaron decided he would do the same; he would keep on fighting and struggling and suffering until it was all over.

  As he pressed on, he did his best to ignore his raw, parched throat; the knife of hunger in his belly; the dizziness of dehydration; the fear of certain death. The exposed skin on his face was ablaze with pain. Still he went on and on and on.

  He kept going until he crested a final ridge and his legs gave out.

  He tumbled down the slope.

  When he opened his eyes, he saw water.

  Oasis.

  Aaron heaved himself to his feet and stumbled toward the tiny pool.

  The water was shallow, barely more than a foot deep. A tree sat nearby, scraggly, wrapped in rough bark, its few green fronds standing in stark contrast to the azure sky above.