Psion Gamma

by Jacob Gowans

Sammy received four gestures of acknowledgement. The smiles on the faces of the commanders were strained at best, as though they didn’t know exactly what to make of his presence.

  “How long have you known Samuel was alive, Walter?” Commander Havelbert asked. Like the others, she was middle-aged. Her blonde hair and brightly colored finger nails distinguished her from the pack. She sat with impeccable posture. Sammy guessed she was or had been a dancer.

  Commander Byron stared at his hands for a moment and finally looked up at all the members of Command. “Samuel is sitting right here,” he said, gesturing at Sammy, “and is available for questions. How about we allow him to talk first, and then I will share my story after—”

  “But Walter—” Havelbert started to protest.

  “Annaliese, please,” Byron responded politely, but with a note of exasperation, “I think his account is more important.”

  No one seemed pleased about allowing Sammy to speak instead of making Byron answer their questions. Sammy didn’t get it. All of these people had been trained by Byron, so why did he get the impression they were annoyed with him?

  Reluctantly, he began telling them everything. He started with the Rio mission, how things had gone from bad to worse until he fell into a hole. Occasionally Byron interjected with his own comments. Each time he did, he got sour looks from his peers. When Sammy revealed that he’d seen Wrobel on the factory security tapes, the atmosphere in the room changed.

  Commander Iakoka exchanged a look with Havelbert and Zahn. “You’re absolutely positive you saw him?”

  Before Sammy could respond, Byron interrupted. “I have verified everything Samuel has reported.”

  “And you’re letting us find out from a kid?” Ling asked. His face and bald head had all turned bright red.

  From the looks on the faces of the other commanders, Sammy could tell tempers were barely being kept in check.

  “Do you know how insulting this is?” Iakoka asked.

  Al shifted uncomfortably in his seat behind Sammy. Tango Squadron, who sat in chairs along the wall, exchanged glances.

  Commander Byron employed his usual diplomatic tone. “I see your point, Mabella. Please see mine. I have had reason to suspect a mole in Command for the last several weeks. Why would I have come forward with the information? That mole could have been you. I am telling you now because I now know who it is. I am assuming, of course, that the treason was limited to him. For all I know, it might not be. We have severe damage control to do. We need to start by figuring out exactly how much information Victor gave away, if he has sabotaged any of our systems and networks, and where he is right now. The moment I learned it was Victor, I requested his detainment. So far, no one has found any trace of him. Now, Samuel, please continue.”

  Sammy spoke quickly. He wanted to get out of this room. Keeping his eyes on the table, he told them about the Hernandes family, his capture and torture and escape. At this point, Byron interrupted him multiple times with questions, as did the Alpha doctor. When it became too difficult to speak about his journey with Toad, Al reached forward and put a hand on Sammy’s shoulder. Then he got to the part about overhearing Thirteens discussing an attack on the Artemis launch, and commotion broke out again among Command.

  “How can they know about that?” Ling asked his peers.

  Commander Zahn dropped several curses.

  Havelbert took off her glasses and rubbed her nose where they pinched.

  Iakoka also made a noise but Sammy couldn’t hear her over Zahn’s swearing.

  “You’re forgetting what Samuel has already told you about Victor. General Wu is aware of everything. Why do you think he is meeting with the congressional subcommittee right now?”

  The discussion then veered away from Sammy and onto whether Commander Byron had broken protocol by lying about Tango’s whereabouts and then flying into Omaha without notice or proper procedure. Zahn and Iakoka were by far the angriest. Commander Havelbert listened to both sides, offering comments. But Byron didn’t seem concerned about their opinions.

  It bothered Sammy that these people, the leaders of the Psions, would sit and squabble while they had more important things to be discussing.

  “Commander Byron,” Dr. Rosmir said over the noise, “perhaps I might go ahead with my exam of Samuel. Is he still needed?”

  Sammy put his hands up. “No,” he told them, “I don’t need to see anyone. I was examined by a doctor in Wichita.”

  Rosmir began to say more, but Byron cut him off. “I know, Samuel, but it is protocol, and given everything you told me—”

  “But I’m fine!”

  “Your back and arms have multiple lacerations,” the doctor said. “You have bruising on your face and you’re holding your shoulder funny.”

  “I want to go home, not to a hospital!” Sammy shouted. “Maybe you all could act like my opinion matters.”

  “Perhaps, given the circumstances,” Byron offered, “you can make sure he is cleared to go back to headquarters for the night. Is that okay, Maad? I will come get him later.”

  Dr. Rosmir pursed his lips as he looked Sammy over. “I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll try.”

  Sammy followed Dr. Rosmir out of the room. They left the War Offices and a driver took them to the Alpha infirmary. The doctor didn’t speak much, which Sammy appreciated. He stared out the window during the drive, wondering how far he was from the Beta building, and wishing he could just be there now.

  Dr. Rosmir let Sammy inside his office. He tapped on a closed door that read: Autopsy.

  “Your friend is in here. Do you want to see him?”

  Sammy almost said no, but realized he’d always regret missing one last chance to see Toad.

  “Yes, please.”

  Dr. Rosmir opened the door and closed it behind Sammy.

  It was a cold room full of steel cabinets and instruments. Three long tables were in the room on a clean white floor. Only one of the tables held an occupant. Toad’s body was covered in a white cloth, leaving only his face exposed. Sammy’s tears felt hot on his cheeks as they rolled down. He kept wiping them away only to have more fall.

  Toad looked peaceful, his eyes closed and his mouth set in an expressionless way. Sammy sniffed, then laughed a little as he remembered all the times Toad had done the same thing.

  “I’m sorry,” he moaned as he placed his hand on Toad’s forehead. “I should have died, not you. You must have moved incredibly fast to . . . It should’ve been me, Toad. Not you. Why did you have to be so fast?” The tears dripped off his nose, but he didn’t stop them now. “The Alphas came right after you died. Seconds after. Why did you have to move so fast?” He struggled to breathe through his sobs, but he didn’t want to leave Toad alone. “Thank you,” he finally whispered to his friend.

  When he couldn’t take it anymore, he withdrew his hand and left the room. He tried composing himself as best he could, but ultimately failed. Rosmir watched him with a frown.

  “It’s been rough on you, Sammy,” he said. “Hasn’t it?”

  Sammy wiped his eyes angrily. “What?”

  “Life.”

  Sammy didn’t answer. He didn’t want to.

  “I have this for you,” Dr. Rosmir said. He opened his fist and revealed Sammy’s Beta symbol. Sammy took it and examined it. “Commander Byron and I found it in Rio. I didn’t know if you’d want it back or not, but it’s yours to do with as you please.”

  Sammy slipped it into his pocket and muttered his thanks. He stripped down as Dr. Rosmir performed tests, exams, and scans. He removed the few pieces of glass and treated Sammy’s wounds. They went on and on through what was left of the day. By the time the doctor was done, Sammy felt worse than when he’d come in. After they finished and Rosmir had typed up a summary of his findings, he took a seat across from Sammy.

  “You’re going to need more psych exams.”

  Sammy rolled his eyes. “I already spoke to a psychologist.”

  Rosmir shook his head.
“You spoke to a medical doctor playing with psychology. I’m sure he tried and maybe he did help you, but I can’t put you back in any type of training until we clear you here. I just can’t.”

  Sammy didn’t know this man very well, yet he knew he wasn’t going to win an argument with him. “You said I could go home today.”

  Rosmir looked at his watch and sighed. “I guess so. I’ll need to get you admitted first, anyway. But no Game. No sims. No instructions. I’ll probably come by to get you on Monday morning, if not sooner.”

  Sammy cursed. “Why can’t I just be left alone? Isn’t it bad enough I’ve lost my Anomaly Eleven? I’m never going to be the same, I get that. I just want to try to be normal again.”

  “Your anomaly isn’t gone. I don’t think it can ever be gone. Think about it for a minute. When that Aegis was putting you through hell and back on a regular basis, your brain—your amazing brain—couldn’t possibly cope. So what did it do? It shut itself down, or parts of it. That’s what I’m guessing happened to you. I think it’ll come back, and I think we can help you. And by we, I mean people who aren’t me, because I really don’t know much about psychology.”

  No answer came from Sammy. He just stared at the floor and sighed, wishing he could leave. He appreciated Rosmir’s words, but doubted his brain would ever be the same.

  “Anyway, Byron should be on his way to take you back as promised. When he gets here, I’ll take you up to the roof.”

  Byron didn’t arrive to take Sammy back until after midnight. Sammy didn’t know where all the time had gone, but between traveling, the meetings, and Rosmir’s tests and treatments, the day had flown by.

  Byron asked Sammy to sit in the co-pilot’s chair. It was not long before they were back in the air. Sammy knew he wouldn’t have to wait before the commander broke the silence.

  “You gave me quite a shock today.”

  “Your parents?”

  “Yes.” This was followed by a long pause. The only sound was the low hum of the cruiser’s engines. “Are they okay?”

  “You mean healthy?”

  “Yes, but also are they—what are they like?”

  “They’re really great people, sir,” Sammy said. “All the people there were great.” He thought of Dr. Vogt again and closed his eyes. “They were so excited to meet someone who knew you. They—they said they were proud to be fighting on your side.”

  Byron didn’t answer right away. He appeared to be lost in his own thoughts. “I wish you could have told them about Albert . . .”

  “Why is that, sir?” Sammy asked, now looking at the commander.

  Byron looked back at Sammy. “Albert is my son. Their grandson.”

  Sammy opened his mouth and then closed it. “That makes sense.”

  Byron chuckled lightly. “Easier to tell than with some families, maybe.”

  “Well, remember I saw that picture . . . in your office.”

  “I forgot about that. Yes, that helps, too.”

  Sammy remembered something. “Your dad gave me a letter—for you. Right before I left. Here it is.” He pulled a small envelope out of his back pocket.

  Byron reached across the cockpit and took it. “Thank you.” He twirled the envelope a few times, considering it. Then he tucked it into a pocket on the side of his gray jumpsuit.

  Sammy was mildly disappointed. He wanted to hear what it said.

  “Samuel, I am sorry for all that you—”

  “It’s fine,” Sammy said quickly, looking away.

  “No,” Byron said with force, “it is not fine. And I know I said it already, but now I have a better understanding of the horrors you had to face—” Byron paused for a moment to clear his throat. “You are a very strong young man.”

  “I did what anyone else would have done, sir.”

  “Perhaps,” the commander responded, “but with what you have gone through, well, maybe you do not understand what I mean right now.”

  The commander was right, Sammy didn’t know what Byron was talking about, nor did he care. He didn’t even want to think. Not when he felt so bitter and empty.

  Byron kept speaking. “You said that a doctor put you through some therapy for what you went through. Do you feel that those issues are resolved?”

  “Sort of. I mean, I did,” Sammy answered, turning away even further.

  “Sort of?”

  “I—I don’t know if I’m cut out for this, Commander,” Sammy said. “I don’t know if this is the life I wanted—what I thought it’d be. I want to be at headquarters. It’s my home. But I don’t want to see any more people die.”

  Byron cleared his throat again. “You are going through something every Psion has to go through: the realization that our lifestyle is not glamorous like most think it is. I encourage you to think often about this.”

  Sammy nodded. Part of him wanted to tell Byron more. About how his anomaly was gone—possibly for good—and about his sudden dark feelings about his life, but he couldn’t find the strength in himself to do it.

  They touched down on the roof of headquarters. “I promise to continue this discussion with you another time, but unfortunately I must get back to Alpha. No one knows you are coming back today. So you can slip in quietly and sleep. Either use Brickert’s room or an empty one. If you need anything, Major Tawhiri is here watching over the building and you can reach me on my com.”

  He laid an arm out on Sammy’s shoulder, and Sammy noticed that Byron looked older than he remembered. Byron reached into a cubby under the controls of the cruiser and removed a brown box from inside. The box had Sammy’s name etched onto the wooden cover. He knew that inside he would find his new com.

  “You have done so much good, and you are not done yet. Welcome back.”

  Samuel choked out a word of gratitude, took the box, and left the cruiser.

  29. Confrontations

  May 5, 2086

  PHYSICALLY AND MENTALLY EXHAUSTED, Jeffie lay in bed knowing she wasn’t going to get much sleep. She glanced over at the clock on her wall: 0105. With a sigh, she sat up in her bed. Too tired to sleep.

  As a child, her mother would give her a glass of warm milk to help her fall asleep. Right now it sounded tempting, but the thought of getting out of bed depressed her.

  Byron had arranged a tortuous night-Game for the Betas, and it’d lasted over three hours, not ending until after 2200. Most of the Betas had gone to bed right after it ended. A few had gone to the rec room to watch a movie. Jeffie went to the sims for more weapons training.

  Ever since her conversation with Brickert in solitary, she’d lost her motivation for the Advanced Combat sim unit. She knew she’d have to go back to it eventually, but she wasn’t ready yet. Nor was she ready to watch Sammy’s recordings. Brickert invited her twice during the past week, and she’d declined both offers.

  “I think I’ve learned everything I can from Sammy,” had been her explanation.

  If you can’t sleep, she told herself, you might as well do something productive. Hit the treadmill.

  She glanced at herself in the mirror before she left the room. Her hair was a mess from tossing and turning, and her face had pressure marks from her pillow.

  “Looking good, girl,” she whispered to herself.

  Wearing only boxers and a tee shirt, she climbed the steps to the next floor. To her surprise, a light was on in the cafeteria. It threw a thin white line on the wall opposite the door. She heard the tinkling of metal on glass, which reminded her of when she and Sammy would eat ice cream in the middle of the night. A small pang hit her stomach, and she considered just going back to bed. Instead, she peeked around the corner and saw someone sitting at a table, his back to her. The long black hair and an ugly brown flannel shirt told her who it was.

  Hefani.

  She didn’t want to see or talk to him, especially now. But since she was determined to get her milk, she’d have to put up with his company for two minutes. Her light footsteps betrayed her presence, and he turned to se
e who was invading his privacy.

  “Hey Hef,” she said in a friendly voice.

  But it wasn’t Hefani. This person didn’t have Hefani’s eyes, nor his chin and nose. Just his long hair and black skin. Now that she saw who it was, she wondered how she’d ever thought it was Hefani.

  “Sammy?” she whispered as his eyes met hers. Her stomach turned cold and her feet felt like giant cinder blocks had been chained to them.

  “Hi, Jeffie,” he said kindly, but no smile came to his face.

  The invisible weights on her feet were gone. She went instantly to him, throwing herself into him. He turned just in time to receive her embrace. She knew she was not dreaming. She smelled him deeply, reveling in his warmth and the feel of his heart beating in his chest against hers. The touch of his arms and the texture of his cheek witnessed to her how real it was.

  They hugged each other for a long time, much longer than she’d ever held anyone. She feared that if she let go too soon, he might vanish. All the moments she’d spent mourning his absence seemed too small a price to pay for having him here now. Her thoughts were strangely clearer than they’d been in weeks. Her best friend, her hero, was back.

  She laughed. “I hate you!” But her eyes betrayed her emotion as she covered her nose and sniffed. She playfully hit him on the chest.

  “I know.” He looked sad, but hints of happiness tugged at his mouth. “It’s good to see you, too.”

  “What—how—when did you get here?” Her voice was shaky, but she didn’t care. Giddiness had flooded her. “What’s been—what happened to your hair?”

  “Well . . . I got here about this much ice cream ago,” he answered, putting his spoon near the top of the bowl. “And I haven’t cut my hair in about eight months.”

  “So you haven’t been here too long. That’s good. Where’d you get the clothes?

  “Some bum on the street gave them to me. He said he liked my hair.”

  Jeffie laughed again. They both looked at each other for a moment, not saying anything.

  “I missed you,” they both said.

  Jeffie laughed even louder. Sammy didn’t laugh and his smile was gone quickly.