Hurricane (Hive Mind Book 3)

by Janet Edwards

  I needed some definite information about those long-ago events, and Lucas’s Tactical Commander imprint would surely include the details. I couldn’t just read Lucas’s mind to get my answers though. I had no access to either the imprinted facts, or the personal memories, in anyone’s mind. I could only see what they were currently thinking about, and there was no reason for Lucas to think about a tragedy that had happened nearly four decades ago.

  If I asked Lucas about Celandine’s death, then he’d think about the imprinted facts, but he’d also ask how I’d learned about her. With other people, I could use the easy excuse of saying that I’d seen someone thinking about her, but Lucas was an expert in reading body language, and especially my body language.

  It would be much safer to get my information from Adika. He’d spent seven years working in Morton’s Telepath Unit, so he’d surely have heard all about what happened to Celandine.

  Yes, tomorrow morning I would invent an excuse to talk to Adika, casually ask about Morton’s wife, and learn everything I needed to know. That decision made, I managed to get back to sleep, but woke to find Lucas was missing. I had a foolish moment of panic before I saw he was sitting at the table in the corner of our vast bedroom, eating breakfast while tapping busily at his dataview.

  I rolled out of the sleep field, and my foot caught in something soft. I looked down, saw the blue and green beach dress lying on the floor, laughed, and pulled on a robe before going to sit in the chair opposite Lucas. I sipped from a glass of melon juice, before inspecting the contents of the covered dish in front of me.

  “I’m afraid my Tactical team and I have to take part in a Joint Tactical Meeting conference call in half an hour,” said Lucas.

  I frowned my disapproval. “You aren’t supposed to be working when our unit is still in the mandatory twenty-four hour recovery period after an emergency run.”

  Lucas shrugged. “Joint Tactical Meetings have to be an exception to that rule. At any given time, at least one of the five Telepath Units will be in a mandatory recovery period. We have enough problems finding times to hold meetings when none of the Tactical Commanders has their telepath engaged in an emergency or check run.”

  I was halfway through eating my breakfast when there was the distinctive, though rather muffled, sound of my dataview chiming for an incoming message. I looked around vaguely, couldn’t see my dataview anywhere, stood up, and went to check if it was in the heap of clothes on the floor.

  “I think the sound is coming from inside the bedroom storage wall,” said Lucas helpfully.

  “I can’t possibly have left my dataview inside …” I opened the storage wall and saw my dataview was on my underwear shelf. “Oh.”

  I picked up the dataview and went to sit down again before checking the message. “Megan’s asking if it’s convenient for Eli’s surgeon to come to the unit in an hour from now.”

  Lucas grinned and repeated my earlier words back to me. “You aren’t supposed to be working when our unit is still in the mandatory twenty-four hour recovery period after an emergency run.”

  “Helping Eli isn’t work.” I stared gloomily down at my dataview. “It’s ridiculous but I’m almost as nervous as Eli about talking to his surgeon.”

  “You could give Megan a list of questions and let her talk to the surgeon.”

  “I promised Eli that I’d do this myself.” I tapped at the dataview to confirm the meeting. “There. It’s organized.”

  Lucas stood up. “I need to go to my meeting, but you could get Buzz to sit with you while you talk to the surgeon.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll be fine.”

  Lucas stooped to kiss me and then sprinted out of the room.

  I ate one more mouthful of breakfast, decided I wasn’t hungry any longer, and went over to study the clothes hanging inside the bedroom storage wall. What did you wear to talk to a surgeon? It somehow seemed like a formal occasion, and I usually wore a onesuit for formal occasions, but I always felt horribly uncomfortable in them.

  Waste it! Why was I standing here dithering about clothes? There was no reason for me to dress up for this meeting. Eli’s surgeon wouldn’t care what I wore.

  I had a quick shower, pulled on a random outfit, and then stood in thought for a moment. Visitors to our unit went through security checks before being allowed to enter one of our dedicated set of lifts, but Adika still insisted on meeting arriving strangers himself, to paranoidly double-check their identity and make sure they weren’t carrying lethal weapons to murder his telepath.

  This was an ideal chance for me to have an apparently casual chat with Adika about Morton’s past. I went out of my apartment and along the corridor. Yes, Adika was already waiting by lift 3. He looked surprised to see me.

  “You’re early, Amber.”

  “I’ve made Eli’s surgeon come all the way to our unit to talk to me. I didn’t want to risk being late.”

  I allowed a pause of a few seconds before continuing with my carefully planned speech. “When we were taking over the target from Morton’s Strike team yesterday, I caught something in one of their minds that confused me. I thought you’d be able to explain it.”

  Adika accepted my statement without question. “Yes? What was it?”

  “Something about the death of Morton’s wife.”

  Adika looked bewildered. “I can see why that confused you, Amber. Morton has never been married.”

  “Oh,” I murmured.

  “The Strike team member must have been thinking of a friend or family member who happens to be called Morton as well,” said Adika.

  “Yes, that would explain it.”

  I frowned at the door of lift 3. Morton’s wife had died nearly forty years ago, but it was still odd that Adika didn’t know anything about her. Celandine was an unusual name too. Had Morton invented a fictional wife to convince me of the importance of behaving properly? It was hard to believe he would go to such lengths.

  It seemed more likely that Adika didn’t know about Celandine because Morton wanted the details of her life and death to be kept secret from new people joining his unit. I could see why Morton would want Celandine forgotten, but in that case why had he told me about her?

  Once again, I was faced with the fact that nothing about my conversation with Morton made sense. Well, perhaps one or two things did. I could see why Morton had reacted to my mention of Sapphire by telling me she wasn’t an appropriate role model for a new telepath. If he felt my relationship with Lucas was irregular, then he’d strongly disapprove of Sapphire’s lovers. Why had Morton told me about his feelings when he was training in Hive Futura though? Why had he talked so much about the hunter of souls?

  I realized the doors of lift 3 were opening, and hastily focused my attention on the man stepping out. Eli’s surgeon was very young, had rebellious brown hair, and a serious expression on a face that was startlingly familiar.

  I stood there, open-mouthed, while Adika bustled forward to scan the new arrival, and then finally managed to speak.

  “Atticus!”

  Chapter Nine

  “Hello, Amber,” said Atticus calmly. “It seems a very long time since we entered Lottery, doesn’t it?”

  I was still in shock, my mind whirling with memories from Teen Level. The twenty-two of us living on my corridor had been a united group for five years, sharing endless jokes and arguments until we were eighteen and entered Lottery.

  I remembered how we’d said our farewells on the last day of Carnival, the way that all teens did. I’d never expected to see any of my old friends again, but Forge’s risk-seeking nature, leadership skills, and natural athleticism had made Lottery choose him as a candidate for my Strike team. I’d encountered my one-time best friend, Shanna, as well. She was a Level 9 media presenter now, as self-confidently absorbed in her appearance and clothes as on Teen Level.

  I hadn’t seen any of the others since Lottery, but I’d looked up their results. Linnette, who loved all living creatures, was a Level 41
Animal Care Expert. Margot, notoriously fastidious about her food, was a Level 30 Protein Enhancement Supervisor. Good-natured Casper was a Level 61 Restaurant Service Specialist. Bullying Reece was a Level 93 Pipe Technician. Atticus was …

  I stepped forward to take Atticus’s hands in mine, and gave a dazed shake of my head. “I knew Lottery had assigned you as a Level 3 Physician Surgical, but I never thought of the possibility you’d operated on Eli.”

  Atticus gave me the quiet smile I remembered from the past. “I led a team of four surgeons operating on Eli, but there are many thousands of surgeons in our Hive. There was no reason for you to think I’d been involved.”

  Atticus had led a team of surgeons operating on Eli! I was startled, and then realized I shouldn’t have been. Eli’s condition had been critical back then, so it made sense that multiple surgeons had been working on him at once. Megan had told me that Atticus was one of the most skilled surgeons in our Hive, so he’d naturally have been leading the team.

  “I remember how we talked about what Lottery might assign us,” I said. “We both expected that Forge and Shanna would end up living on the elite top ten accommodation levels of the Hive, while we’d be going down into the depths. You must have been stunned and delighted to be rated Level 3.”

  Atticus’s smile took on an extra joyous quality. “I was stunned and delighted, but not because I was high level. It’s the work itself, Amber. Saving lives. Saving the quality of lives. Saving people from pain. I’m Level 3 but I wouldn’t care if I was Level 93.”

  I laughed, released his hands, and pulled a rueful face. “Yes, I was always the one panicking about ending up as a Level 99 Sewage Technician. You were perfectly content with the idea of being Level 80 like your parents. What did they think about you becoming a surgeon?”

  “They were thrilled.” Atticus seemed to hesitate. “Ever since I came out of Lottery, I’ve been wondering how you were coping with your result, Amber. I thought you’d struggle to adjust to such a different life, but it seems you’ve grown to meet the challenge.”

  He pointed at the wall opposite the lifts, where Sofia had covered a blank area with a painting of me standing on one of the park picnic tables giving a speech to everyone in the unit.

  I was suddenly wary. Atticus would obviously have looked up my Lottery result in the same way I’d looked up his. That wasn’t a problem because the Hive protected its telepaths by listing their result as a Level 1 Researcher in charge of their own Research Unit. The complicating factor was that Atticus also knew all about Eli’s injury, and would either have been told or guessed something about Eli’s work.

  Atticus was highly intelligent, so he must already be wondering why someone like Eli would be working in a Research Unit. I’d no idea how to explain that, or what else it was safe for me to say, so I tried changing the subject.

  “We’re very fortunate to have such a talented artist as Sofia for our unit Mural Painter. She does some paintings that are purely for the benefit of our unit, but other images get used across the whole Hive, and even traded to other Hives.”

  Atticus wasn’t letting me dodge this conversation. “I’m sure Sofia is a brilliant painter, but I’m interested in you, not her, Amber. How are you finding your new life?”

  “It’s a big responsibility,” I said cautiously.

  Atticus’s face twisted. “It certainly is, but that wasn’t what I meant. You were so terrified of nosies on Teen Level, that I couldn’t imagine how you’d react to being told you were a true telepath yourself. It must have been a huge shock.”

  It took me a moment to absorb what Atticus had said, but Adika reacted instantly, moving in front of me and glowering menacingly down at Atticus. “Why does a Level 3 Physician Surgical know restricted information about true telepaths?”

  Atticus took a hasty step backwards. “Because I’m on a Gold Assignment.”

  I’d never heard anyone say the words Gold Assignment before, and was too stunned by the fact Atticus knew I was a telepath to care what they meant. Adika clearly knew all about Gold Assignments though, because he looked disconcerted at first, and then his expression changed to one of disbelief.

  “That’s not on your record.”

  “Information about Gold Assignments is restricted, so it’s not mentioned in my open record,” said Atticus, in a patient voice. “You need to request access to my secure record to see it.”

  Adika stabbed a forefinger at him. “Stay right where you are while I do that. Don’t move a muscle. Don’t breathe.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair. Atticus knew I was a telepath! How did he feel about that? He hadn’t seemed repulsed when I took his hands.

  I could read Atticus’s mind to find out my answer, but I daren’t. Atticus had been my friend on Teen Level. We’d even been on a couple of dates. I couldn’t bear to see him thinking telepaths were inhuman and disgusting.

  Adika was madly tapping at his dataview, and scowling at the screen as if he didn’t like what it said. Finally, he grunted and put his dataview away.

  “All right, you’re on a Gold Assignment,” he said grudgingly, and stepped away from between Atticus and me. “Now tell me why a Level 3 Physician Surgical is reporting directly to the Hive Gold Commander.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t answer that question. As I said earlier, information about Gold Assignments is restricted.” Atticus recited the words wearily, as if he’d had to say them far too often, and then turned to face me and repeated his earlier question.

  “So, how are you finding your new life, Amber? I’ve been imprinted with a lot of details about Telepath Units, and even met two of the other telepaths, Morton and Mira, but it was still hard to imagine how you’d adjust to such a life.”

  Atticus knew I was a telepath. Atticus was imprinted with details about Telepath Units. Atticus had met Morton and Mira. This situation was totally surreal.

  “It took me a while to accept being a telepath,” I said, “and I had to deal with my feelings about nosies as well, but I’ve done that now. Well, mostly done that now.”

  I hesitated. “What about you though? How do you feel about me being a telepath and able to read your mind? Worried? Scared?”

  Atticus laughed. “I was never worried about nosies reading my mind, Amber. Don’t you remember me telling you there was nothing in my head to interest them?”

  I nodded nervously. “I remember you saying something about having the most boring mind of all the five million teens on Teen Level.”

  “If I wasn’t worried about nosies reading my mind on Teen Level, why would I worry about you doing it now? It’s been eight months since Lottery. You’ll have read the minds of everyone on your Strike team repeatedly. You’ll have read the minds of everyone in your unit at least once. You’ll have touched the minds of thousands of strangers in passing. You’ll have studied the thoughts of dozens of target minds in violent mental crisis.”

  Atticus shook his head. “You must have seen everything the human mind is capable of by now, so you aren’t going to be shocked by the thoughts of someone as ordinary and unimportant as me.”

  “You shouldn’t be so dismissive about yourself.”

  “I’m not being dismissive. There’s nothing wrong with being ordinary and unimportant. Perhaps most people wouldn’t use those words about themselves, but I spent my childhood on Level 80. You can’t pretend to be anything but ordinary and unimportant when you live that far down the Hive, but the things you do can still make a crucial difference to others.”

  He paused. “Do you remember Casper on Teen Level?”

  “Of course.”

  “Casper always had a glorious smile. Now he works in the restaurant at a specialist medical facility which helps people deal with depression and catastrophic life events. I went there to visit a patient of mine, and he told me how Casper’s smile had helped him through the darkest of days.”

  Atticus stretched his hands out and looked down at them. “Casper and I are both ordinary an
d unimportant, but he has a magical smile and I have dextrous hands. We both use our gifts to save lives.”

  He looked up at me again. “Now you asked me to come here to answer some questions about Eli’s treatment. Is there somewhere private we can talk?”

  “Yes. There’s a community room just along this corridor.”

  I led the way to the community room, and sat down on one of a group of luxuriously padded chairs. Atticus sat down opposite me, and Adika stood by the wall next to us.

  Atticus coughed and looked pointedly at Adika. “Eli has said that Amber has full authority to act on his behalf. I can’t answer questions in front of anyone else though.”

  “I’m Eli’s Strike team leader,” said Adika. “I need to know all his medical information.”

  “You need to know the details of Eli’s fitness for work,” said Atticus. “You don’t need to know his private feelings about having an operation.”

  “You’d better wait outside, Adika,” I said.

  Adika gave Atticus a glare that would intimidate an army. “I don’t believe Amber has checked your thoughts yet, so I can’t leave you alone with her.”

  Atticus sighed. “Please check my thoughts, Amber. I’d like you to read my mind during this discussion anyway. I’ve had similar conversations to this with both Morton and Mira, and found that having them read my mind was a great help with complex medical explanations.”

  “If that’s what you want, then …”

  I closed my eyes. There were some odd things about the telepathic view of the world. It contained no walls, no floor, no furniture, nothing but the glow of minds hanging in an empty void. Sometimes it seemed to mimic one of my other senses, usually sight or hearing, but it could randomly change so I was aware of textures, scents or tastes. It was hard to judge distance because the clarity of a mind was affected by the volume of competing thoughts in the area.

  One of the oddest things though was that you couldn’t necessarily recognize the mind of an old friend you’d only known conventionally. I’d discovered this with Forge. The first time I’d touched his mind, he’d been with four other candidates for my Strike team, and I hadn’t been able to tell which one he was.