by K. M. Ruiz
One of the Warhound teams on surveillance duty in Toronto had tagged a strong, abnormal psi signature two days earlier on the mental grid. It originated from the Strykers Syndicate, and Gideon refused to believe it could be anyone else.
“I’m not hearing any answers,” Gideon said.
“Because there aren’t any, sir,” Warrick said. “Not with the information we have. The Strykers would have more than we do, especially since that psion was in their Syndicate.”
They should have initiated their visit yesterday, but Nathan had informed Gideon about the breach in the seed bank before they left for the Strykers Syndicate, which had delayed the visit by twenty-four hours. Gideon adjusted the tie knotted around his throat. He was wearing a suit for this endeavor. He would have preferred a field uniform.
“Feels like Kristen is in this city,” James said.
Gideon turned to give the telepath a sharp look. “I doubt Lucas would make it that easy to find him again.”
“It’s not your sister, sir. It’s her dysfunction that feels similar on the mental grid. Insanity has a particular spike to it.”
“Strykers rarely keep dysfunctional psions. The government usually orders their termination at a young age. Most likely it’s someone injured from the fight in Buffalo.” Gideon walked over to the chair where his suit jacket was hanging and put it on. “Let’s go.”
They were doing this the human way, restricted from using Gideon’s ability to teleport. He knew what the Strykers Syndicate looked like; specifically, their arrival rooms for psions, but Nathan wasn’t quite at the point where he could risk their family’s secret coming out.
They left the suite of rooms for a shuttle that was locked into one of the landing docks that stuck out like spokes down the side of the city tower, just one of many used by the registered elite. The walk there took them down to a public level, past brightly lit department stores and restaurants, the hologrids that lined every wall showing news streams and not the usual adverts. Residential routes cut away from the public space, leading off to the lifts that would carry people to their homes.
The atmosphere was muted and tense. People walked by with their heads down, looking at no one as they went about their business. The group made it to their assigned shuttle walkway and entered the short, enclosed tube that extended to the shuttle’s hatch. Minutes after they strapped in, the pilot disengaged the anchor locks once given the all clear.
The flight to the other city tower and the Strykers Syndicate was short. Gideon had the pilot dock the shuttle on a lower level and the four disembarked, heading for a lift that would take them right to the top. A security system had already scanned their eyes and faces for identities, so when the lift came to a stop and the doors opened onto a sleek lobby, Gideon was greeted by a familiar woman.
“Keiko,” he said, stepping out of the lift and into the Strykers Syndicate.
“Sir,” she said evenly. “This is unexpected.”
“We have business to discuss.”
Despite being surrounded by psions and humans, only four people in this Syndicate knew the truth about the Sercas. Keiko wasn’t about to break the Silence Law. She didn’t argue Gideon’s order and simply led him to a lift farther inside that had access to the rest of the Strykers Syndicate’s levels.
Keiko took him to the administrative level. She took him to Ciari.
Gideon was surprised to see the other woman conscious. Considering the trauma that Erik had inflicted on her at The Hague, Gideon expected her to be well on her way to dying. Instead, Ciari looked decently recovered. She had Aidan and Jael with her, and while those two acknowledged his arrival, Ciari continued watching a news stream.
The World Court was standing before the cameras again, on trial themselves before public opinion in the face of irrefutable evidence that they still categorically denied.
“This should be interesting,” Jael said. It was anyone’s guess if she meant the current company or the current news as Gideon crossed Ciari’s office to take a seat before her desk.
“I’ve never cared for your interests,” Keiko said.
On the vidscreen, Erik was arguing his case, backed by the other fourteen judges that made up the World Court. Between the judges and the reporters was a line of quads with pulse-rifles, which said more about the situation than anything else.
“We who have held the title of judge on the World Court, all of the previous men and women who have presided here over the past two hundred and fifty years, have only had the world’s best interests at heart,” Erik said, his voice filling the office. “The Border Wars nearly destroyed Earth, making it impossible to live in all but the most desperate of places. Even now, we are a desperate people, but we have not lost the greatest part of our humanity. We have not lost our capacity to hope for a better life, for a better world.
“The Fifth Generation Act was just one of many plans implemented in order to help society distance itself from its horrific past. Five generations to cleanse our DNA, with the Registry securing the identities of those who succeeded. It had to be done, if only to separate us from the psions that the Border Wars created. The psions threatened and still threaten our own existence to this day, their disease a reminder of what is still at stake—our survival as a people, as humans.”
He paused for a moment before the cameras, taking in a deep breath. “Fewer of us are born every year with the ability to live healthy lives. Too many of us are born with genetic defects, caused from leftover radiation taint. Too many of us die young from disease. It is difficult, almost impossible, to heal everyone in the population. It takes time, but we have been trying.”
Someone shouted a vicious dissent from offscreen, but Erik didn’t react.
“Since the end of the Border Wars, the government has been trying to make this world a better place. It’s a seemingly impossible task, but we have done the best job we could over the years. Yes, there have been draconian measures taken to ensure humanity’s survival, but that’s the cost we pay to live. We have come so far since the collapse of the old world and we aren’t prepared to stop now. These lies that unregistered dissidents spread are abhorrent and insulting.”
“Lies,” Ciari echoed. “We could teach him something about that.”
On-screen, the crowd of reporters was being jostled by a ruckus out of view of the cameras. More shouting ripped through the audio, and the quads leveled their guns at a crowd that was starting to get unruly. It was mere seconds from becoming a massacre when everyone went suddenly quiet and still. People froze where they stood, the silence in the room difficult to comprehend after that sudden fit of fury.
“Empath,” Jael said, arms crossed stiffly over her chest. “Who’s on guard duty?”
“Three teams,” Keiko said. “The World Court is protected. They authorized psionic interference if necessary.”
“You seem to have everything under control,” Gideon said. “It’s a far cry from the government.”
Ciari finally turned her head to look at him, and the deadness in her eyes was shocking. Gideon studied her face and noted the lack of expression.
“Our orders stand,” Ciari said. “We’ve been tasked with protecting the registered elite in the city towers during their transfer to the Paris Basin. We have no choice.”
“You always have a choice with us.” Gideon offered her a careful smile. “Let’s discuss those choices, shall we?”
“I was under the assumption that Nathan wasn’t extending us help. As he pointed out, it’s too late for retrievals.”
“We said we’d take your high-Classed psions and bring them with us into space, but as of right now, we’ll only do that if you give us the one we really want.”
“We haven’t been hiding Lucas from you.”
“We don’t want Lucas any way but dead.” Gideon shrugged. “We want Jason Garret.”
He didn’t miss the way everyone but Ciari went tense at his demand. Gideon studied Ciari intently. He was not a ’path-oriented ps
ion, but he’d lived eighteen years with one digging through his mind. Something was wrong with the Strykers’ OIC.
“That’s a bit of a problem, considering he defected,” Ciari said slowly.
“He was here during the fight in Buffalo. The Warhounds in this city felt his presence. Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
Gideon leaned back in his chair. “So you’ll risk all your people for the sake of one psion?”
“We can’t risk anyone when we don’t have the person you’re looking for,” Jael said. “Jason Garret has been targeted for kill on sight by the World Court since he managed to escape. Do you think we could keep him here when we’re scrutinized so closely?”
“The fact that we’re having this conversation in your office proves you wrong.”
“No, it simply proves we can circumvent the system, but not for long and not frequently,” Aidan said. “With what’s going on, the World Court has more important things to worry about than watching our every move so long as we obey orders.”
“Considering how badly they need you for security right now, I doubt that.”
Ciari tapped at the controls on her desk, turning off the vidscreen. “At some point, even we won’t be enough. I’m sorry, Gideon. I can’t accept your bargain. I don’t have who you want.”
Gideon looked her in the eye, searching for something he couldn’t find, because all he saw was a faint glint of silver in brown depths. “Does Erik know you’re awake?”
“Yes.”
“Does he know you’re going insane?”
The question hit home hard, none of the officers standing around Ciari’s desk able to hide their surprise quick enough at his assessment of the situation. Ciari, on the other hand, couldn’t care that he knew what was wrong with her.
“Is that a threat?” Ciari asked.
“Can you even tell?”
“Damn you,” Jael said, slamming her hand down near the corner of Ciari’s desk. “We can’t give you what you want, Gideon.”
“Prove it,” Gideon said, still refusing to look away from Ciari. “Let Warrick here link me to you, Ciari. You can’t lie mind to mind, not in the state you’re in.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I wasn’t talking to you, Jael.”
Ciari slowly tilted her head to the side, studying Gideon. “You remind me so much of Nathan right now. He should have chosen you sooner.”
Gideon had to fight back the scowl. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And you don’t know what you’re asking for.” Ciari flicked her fingers at him. “Do it.”
She was still the OIC, even in the wrecked state she was in. Her officers couldn’t counter her order, even though they wanted to. Warrick, telepathically merged with Mercedes and James, pulled Gideon into a psi link and reached for Ciari’s damaged mind.
TWENTY-EIGHT
SEPTEMBER 2379
TORONTO, CANADA
Gideon was on his feet when the crack of displaced air exploded in the room. Bodies dropped out of a teleport, but he was already stumbling away from Ciari’s desk, information cutting through his mind from what Warrick and the other two were able to discover for him. The echoes of Lucas’s thoughts in Ciari’s mind were like a telepathic punch he had no defenses against.
“You have a daughter?” Gideon exclaimed.
You never could learn to leave things well enough alone, Lucas said into his mind.
Then suddenly he was there, in a way Nathan had never been, cutting so deep through Gideon’s thoughts that the younger man didn’t have a chance at surviving. Not on his own. Gideon had an image of a room burned into his mind, of an escape all Warhound telekinetics never forgot, except he couldn’t reach it. His telekinesis couldn’t make that final jump into a teleport, and the panic at that realization nearly drowned out the agony from Lucas’s attack. Gideon fell to his knees while around him chaos erupted.
The three Warhounds who’d come with Gideon were doing their level best to block some of Lucas’s attack against Gideon, but they weren’t strong enough to win against a Class I, even in merge. Faced with the daunting odds in Ciari’s office, they fought to save their own skins for as long as they could. Their efforts were joined by the Stryker officers, who didn’t take kindly to being ambushed.
Kristen was slammed against the far wall by Keiko’s initial telekinetic punch. The Japanese woman knew how devastating Kristen’s mind could be and needed to preemptively take her out. Kristen would have been severely injured if Jason didn’t cushion her landing, ripping Keiko’s power off the teenager. Keiko retaliated against Jason even as she shielded Ciari and her fellow officers.
“Shit—we didn’t come here to fight this time!” Jason yelled at her.
The three Warhounds were bearing down on Lucas’s mind with telepathic strikes, and Jael added her own attack to the mix. She found it deflected not by Lucas, but by Kerr. Her mind, still bruised from the last blow he’d leveled through her thoughts, flinched against the pressure of his touch.
Jael, we mean it, Kerr said. Don’t fight us.
But both sides knew that they couldn’t give any ground, not with everything that was happening in the world. Jael’s duty right now was to protect Ciari’s mind. She might only be a Class III telepath, but she’d spent her entire life putting minds back together. She knew how to take them apart. Kerr may finally have gained solid shielding, but Jael knew where weakness once resided in his mind, and she attacked those areas with her telepathy. Jael managed to stop Kerr’s next strike before it even touched her mind by aiming hard and fast for the bottom of his shields.
A psion mind never forgot, and Kerr instinctively flinched against her attack. His shields held, but Jael managed to bruise his mind. Training demanded retaliation, but Kerr came up short. Jael was the Strykers Syndicate’s CMO and they weren’t here to murder their former officers.
Fire erupted in Ciari’s office, controlled by Quinton as he targeted the Warhounds. Skin burned just as easily as anything else, and the horrific screams of the two men being engulfed in flames rang in everyone’s ears. The stench of burning bodies filled the air, making everyone gag. Jason wrapped the Warhounds in a telekinetic shield, limiting the damage Quinton’s fire could do to the floor and ceiling. The woman the other Warhounds had come with managed a mercy killing for the two before Samantha broke her mind so thoroughly that she was dead before she hit the floor.
Then it was just Strykers and Sercas, the lines of loyalty blurred beyond all belief. With a sinking sense of anguish, Samantha focused all of her power on her brothers—and stopped Lucas from killing her twin. The mental grid reverberated with her attack, the backlash slamming against everyone else’s shields. Lucas doubled over from the white-hot pain in his mind, swearing loudly, unprepared for her sudden betrayal.
Gideon knelt on the floor, hands clawing at his head. His mouth was open in a soundless scream, agony written in every line of his rigid body, and all Samantha could see was her other half.
I’m sorry, she whispered into the fractured remains of Gideon’s mind. Lucas had torn apart every memory that held the information about his daughter and damaged even more than that. Samantha could see what Lucas had done, could see the insidious corruption that was already snaking through Gideon’s mind like acid, eating away at everything that made him who he was. The torturous mindwipe could only result in death.
But Gideon still had his power. And, for just right now, he had her.
Go, Samantha said into her twin’s mind, pieces of who she was imprinting onto him. She gave him enough balance and clarity to finish the teleport he still struggled to form, a last attempt at an apology he would never accept.
Gideon disappeared.
When Lucas slammed his mind into hers, Samantha wished she could as well.
Why? Lucas demanded.
He’s my brother, Samantha said, struggling to hold up her shields. Same as you.
Except Gideon was her tw
in and she owed him more than Lucas. That debt was paid now. Lucas peeled her shields apart and Samantha let him, knowing she couldn’t stop him if he wanted to kill her.
“Stop.”
Ciari’s voice cut through the melee like nothing else could. Everyone obeyed, ingrained training impossible to ignore when the OIC spoke, no matter how long some of them had been gone from the fold. With one final, vicious wrench of his telepathy, Lucas let his sister go and didn’t bother catching her when she fell to her knees, forehead pressed to the floor. Samantha laced her hands over the back of her head, as if she were trying to keep her skull from breaking into pieces.
Around them, the mental grid was layered with the minds of those Strykers still within the confines of the city tower, Lucas and Kerr merged and working to hold off their attacks.
Ciari was on her feet, hands flat on her desk. “This gets us nowhere.”
Lucas met her gaze evenly. “Is your security loop still running?”
“Since Gideon walked through the door. We have ten more minutes on the clock.” She pointed at the three dead Warhounds. “Get rid of those.”
Jason teleported the bodies away, dumping them from a distance into Lake Ontario. Quinton doused what was left of his fire, but the smell of smoke and burned human flesh still filled everyone’s lungs when Jason collapsed his telekinetic shields. Too many minds in close proximity on the mental grid had Ciari pressing the palm of one hand to her forehead.
“Jael, tell everyone to stand down,” she said.
Jael hesitated, but she didn’t argue, which was probably why Ciari asked her and not Aidan. Stand down.
The Strykers were reluctant, but they listened. With the pressure gone, Ciari straightened up, staring at Lucas. “It’s been a while.”
Lucas stared at her, dark blue eyes unblinking as he assessed her mental state. “I can’t fix what’s wrong with you.”
“I don’t recall asking. Pick your sister off the floor.”
Lucas didn’t move. Samantha got to her feet with Kristen’s help.