Perfect Weapon

by Jade Kerrion

The general met Danyael's gaze steadily. "Would you believe me if I said I did not?"

  "No." Danyael's reply was firm. "I sensed many emotions from you yesterday, but betrayal was not one of them."

  Without invitation, the general sat across from Danyael. "You sensed correctly. I supplied Sakti with soldiers to lead and train its members. I also provided Sakti with blueprints and security plans of their target institutions."

  Danyael's breath caught. "The prisons."

  "Exactly," the general conceded with a single nod of his head. "I could not save you any other way."

  "You took a big risk for your super soldier program." Danyael heard the bitterness in his own voice.

  The general shook his head. "I risked it for you and for others like you. Mutants are the future, and if the United States is to thrive as a superpower, we must embrace everything that mutants offer. I am a patriot, as is Reyes, and as are the members of Sakti. America has forgotten the principles on which she was founded: freedom and equality for all. We are all trying, in our own way, to help this country find its way back." He paused, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. "Does it bother you that I broke the law?"

  Danyael shook his head. "No. The law is...broken if mutants can be classified as criminals and locked away without trial."

  "You are not irrationally loyal to abstract principles, are you?"

  "Like governments and their laws?" Danyael dragged a hand wearily over his face. "No. Abstract principles did not save or damn me. People did."

  "You're a practical man; I'm glad." The general pushed to his feet. "I have to get to my first meeting, but we must talk more later. If you understood me better, you would find it easier to accept the life you are building for yourself here. We should also discuss your future when the social climate toward derivatives and mutants improves."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You would always be welcome at the Mutant Assault Group, but surely you want your life back." The general spread his hands. "You are doing invaluable work for the U.S. military. When you prove both the efficacy and efficiency of fielding super soldiers instead of risking human lives on the battlefield, the government will owe you a debt." He smiled again. "I'd collect, if I were you. A presidential pardon could get you the fresh start you want."

  Neither Danyael nor Reyes said anything until the general left Reyes's suite. When the door closed behind the general, Reyes pushed stiffly to his feet. "I think I could use some coffee, spiked with rum."

  Danyael chuckled, a hollow sound.

  Reyes brought steaming hot coffee in two mugs and set one in front of Danyael. "Drink up. There's no rum in yours. I know you have a training session with the soldiers later today. I didn't think it would be smart for an alpha empath to be even the least bit woozy."

  Danyael sipped sparingly. He did not have the heart to tell Reyes that he did not consume caffeine either.

  "You still don't believe him, do you?" Reyes asked bluntly.

  "I'm trying."

  "What will it take you to trust him?"

  Danyael's shoulders moved with a shrug or perhaps a sigh. "Just time. Trust comes slowly for me."

  "Do you trust me?" Reyes asked.

  Danyael looked up into the aged face of the man who had lost his life's work and an entire community of friends and followers because he had sheltered an innocent man. The older man had stepped in to anchor Danyael when Danyael had no one else to lean on. The alpha empath smiled faintly. "Yes, I do."

  Reyes nodded and then he sighed, a defeated sound. He must have seen puzzlement flash across Danyael's face. He patted Danyael's hand.

  The gesture was likely intended to be reassuring, but alarm flared through Danyael as he sifted through the subtle flashes of Reyes's emotions. Danyael pulled back. "What are you trying to say?"

  Reyes shook his head. "Don't mind me. I'm just an old man with many regrets. You, with all your promise, all your brilliant promise, make those regrets taste bitter."

  "I---"

  "No. Don't say you're sorry, Danyael. You shouldn't be sorry for being different, special. I would have been proud to call you my son." Reyes's calm and reflective tone contrasted with the wrenching sense of despair and defeat emanating from him.

  Danyael wrestled with the temptation of probing deeper to draw the emotions and the confession out. Trust. I have to trust. He checked his empathic powers, if not his curiosity.

  Reyes looked up at Danyael, his eyes wet. "Can you forgive a misguided old man for what he forced you to do?"

  "My choices were limited in any case; you know that."

  "Still, I'm not proud of the role I played." Reyes shivered slightly, although the room was not cold. He turned away. "You should go. Don't you have a physical therapy session soon?"

  Danyael understood when he was dismissed. He would have to finish his conversation with Reyes another day, outdoors, away from the listening devices that he was certain were hidden in his and Reyes's suites. He stood and reached for his crutch. "I'll see you later."

  ~*~

  Later that morning, northwest of Washington, D.C., Miriya knocked on the door of Lucien's mansion in McLean. Her reception was a great deal warmer; calling ahead for an appointment had helped. Lucien opened the door to her. "Miriya, it's good to see you again. Come on in."

  Miriya grinned up at him as she trooped into his home and followed him to his study. Once there, she sank into a deep cushioned chair and sighed appreciatively. She had always liked Lucien's study. The room was large---as was every other room in Lucien's mansion---and stamped with Lucien's personality. The desk was massive, but its lines were simple and clean. The sitting area around the large fireplace was similarly understated in its elegance. The rug was lush and deep, absolutely inviting. Miriya tossed good manners out the window, kicked off her sandals, and dug her toes into the carpet.

  She had good memories of that place. She had spent many hours in Lucien's study with Lucien, Zara, Danyael, and Xin shortly after Zara had freed Galahad from Pioneer Labs. Their desire to understand Galahad's obvious connection to Danyael had not seemed overly ambitious back then. In hindsight, those plans were life changing for everyone except Xin.

  Miriya's mood soured. Deliberately Miriya set Xin out of her mind. The clone was clearly up to something, but her psychic shields were strong enough to deter Miriya's telepathic probe. Miriya had tried earlier that morning, and she had earned a dirty look from Xin for her efforts. Xin had then asked her point-blank, "Would you rather I keep you innocently clueless, or did you want to take on the burden of lying to Danyael, to an alpha empath, who is as intimately aware of your feelings as you are of his thoughts?"

  When Xin put it that way--- "Innocently clueless is good."

  "I thought so. Focus on breaking the mental block in Lucien's mind and leave the political shenanigans to me." Xin had then left the council headquarters, presumably to set her plan in motion.

  Miriya looked up from her place on the couch as Lucien drew the shades. The sunlight dimmed into a romantic glow. He glanced back at her. "We might as well be comfortable while talking." And I don't necessarily want my staff squealing to my parents that I've been talking to alpha telepaths again.

  Do they really squeal on you?

  I think they stopped after I fired the first three who did, but people have short memories. "So what are we doing?"

  "Just relaxing and talking. I spoke to Alex and a few other alphas. I'm sorry it took so long; you know how it is...ten alpha telepaths, twenty opinions. We all have extra voices in our heads. Anyway, their cumulative advice is to find and lock on to your strongest memory of Danyael. It'll anchor you when I start to take the mental block down."

  "Fine." Lucien sat beside Miriya. He looked comfortable in a white shirt and faded denim jeans. He did not wear shoes either. He grinned when he saw Miriya looking at his bare feet. "Owner's privilege."

  She chuckled. "How did you meet Danyael?"

  "I was fifteen. My mother was chairman
of the board that managed several large orphanages in Virginia and Maryland. I accompanied her to a board meeting that was held at one of the orphanages; and while she was in her meeting, I wandered around."

  "Alone? She let you do that?"

  Lucien shook his head. "I had two bodyguards with me."

  "Figures."

  "One of the kids was hiding between a bookshelf and a couch, sitting with his scrawny legs hugged to his chest and his head tucked between his knees."

  "Danyael?"

  Lucien nodded. "Only he wasn't called Danyael then."

  "Really?"

  "That came later."

  "Hmm..." Miriya gestured to Lucien to continue.

  "He was about twelve and looked up as I passed by. When the other children threw books at him and hit him, he only curled up tighter. He did not cry out, not once. I was about to intervene when a group of older boys came over. They were in their late teens, older than I was. They sent the kids away. One of them said, 'Leave the pretty boy alone. He's ours.' They dragged Danyael into one of the bedrooms."

  Miriya cringed, knowing how the story would end. Danyael's unchecked empathic powers, shaped by a childhood of abuse and neglect, invited abuse in a vicious, unending cycle.

  Lucien pushed on grimly. "The door was locked. I told my bodyguards to break it down." He pressed both hands to his face as if to hide from the scene that must have been replaying in his mind.

  Miriya squeezed her eyes shut. A single tear leaked out. "Your bodyguards...they didn't---"

  "They were psychically shielded. Danyael's empathic powers couldn't affect them, at least not without physical contact. The teenagers did not stop when I told them to, so I had my bodyguards knock a few heads together, but they still did not back down. They had to be physically incapacitated before the attack on Danyael stopped. Later, much later, I understood why. It wasn't entirely their fault; Danyael's emphatic powers had driven them insane."

  "It wasn't Danyael's fault either," Miriya said softly.

  "No. If Danyael had been treated with greater kindness earlier in his life, he would not have been conditioned to expect abuse, but by the time he was twelve, I don't think he believed life could be any different for him. Anyway, I raised bloody hell and had the director of the orphanage fired."

  "Your mother went along with it?"

  "Yes. Before Danyael, you might almost say I was destined to be idle rich---too much money can do that to you---but Danyael shocked me off a wastrel's path. My mother once said that Danyael was the first passion of my life, the first person I cared enough to change the world for. She was right, though her observation didn't make her happy. She never liked Danyael."

  "So you took Danyael home with you that day?"

  "No, that came later. Over the next few weeks, I made several visits to the orphanage to check on Danyael. I don't think the abuse stopped, but at least it was no longer blatant, especially not when I visited. He was still as thin as a rake. I couldn't get him to eat or play, but we'd spend hours sitting next to each other, saying nothing."

  "Not really an auspicious start to a friendship."

  "The auspicious start came about a month after I first saw Danyael. I was walking back to the car after visiting him when one of my bodyguards pulled out a gun, shot my other bodyguard point blank, and killed him."

  Miriya sat upright. "What?"

  "An attempted kidnapping. Someone---we never found out who---paid him a lot of money to snatch me. Another car pulled up, and he tried to drag me to it. I fought him but would have lost if Danyael hadn't come running. He threw himself between my bodyguard and me. The first thing I ever heard him say was, 'Luce, run!'" Lucien's expression was contemplative. "I ran back to the orphanage; I heard two gunshots and the sound of a car racing away. My bodyguard had shot Danyael. It wasn't bad; it went right through his shoulder."

  "And the second gunshot?"

  "My bodyguard blew his own brains out."

  Miriya nodded slowly. "Danyael's first kill."

  "That's right. I thought my bodyguard had killed himself to avoid arrest when the kidnapping went awry. At that time, I don't think Danyael knew what he was doing either. No one even suspected that he might have been a mutant."

  "What happened then?"

  "I thought Danyael was going to die. There was so much blood everywhere. He looked up at me, his eyes huge and dark in his face, and said, 'Glad you're all right, Luce.'"

  "You took him home after that." It was not a question.

  "He would have died to save me. Of course I took him home." Lucien chuckled, a sad sound. "I wasn't just idle rich. I was also lonely. I could never figure out if my friends liked me, or if they just liked my money. With Danyael, I never wondered; I always knew."

  Miriya wondered if Lucien could hear the respect in his own voice. The memories of their early friendship seemed untainted by the mental block. If anything could anchor Lucien, it would be his life-changing encounter with Danyael. "So, when did Danyael become Danyael?"

  Lucien chuckled softly. "His name at the orphanage was John Doe. He was fished out of a river at the age of two and a half, remember? No one managed to track down his family, so an indifferent government official called him John Doe."

  "So why did he change his name to Danyael Sabre?"

  "It was my bodyguard's name."

  Miriya's jaw dropped. "The one who tried to kidnap you?"

  "It is fairly apt. Danyael killed him and took both his name and his place beside me."

  "Morbid, more like. Did you ever ask Danyael why he did that?"

  "No, of course not. Maybe you should."

  ~*~

  Danyael's busy schedule had left him with little time for Reyes or Amanda. He met them for dinner, but Amanda's presence precluded a private conversation with Reyes. After dinner, Amanda accompanied Danyael back to his suite, as she did on most nights. They made love, tenderly, and then fell asleep in each other's arms.

  Danyael. Miriya's voice in his head jerked him out of sound sleep.

  Turning slowly, Danyael shifted to lie on his back, which ached, as did his left leg from a difficult physical therapy session. Beside him, Amanda slept soundly. He glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table. It was just after midnight. You're up late. What is it?

  I just wanted to check in on you, see how you're doing.

  I've been busy.

  Hah. You've been blocking me. Does your reluctance to talk to me have anything to do with Sakti's attack on Pelican Bay State Prison?

  Damn it, Miriya.

  Ah, so you have figured out the truth. You don't seem bothered by the connection between Sakti and the assault group.

  Danyael released his breath in a sigh. Should I be?

  Uh, a general in the U.S. military is conspiring with a terrorist group---

  Alex Saunders sent me to a super maximum-security prison without trial and would have left me there to die. Sakti, and the general, freed me. I don't see a problem.

  Miriya was briefly silent. Okay, she said finally.

  Why was she conceding so easily? Danyael covered his eyes and shook his head. Why was the world determined not to make any sense?

  Miriya changed the topic abruptly. Can I ask you a question?

  Depends on the question.

  Why did you choose your name?

  Danyael froze. His breath caught in his throat as a cold hand seemed to clench around his heart. You spoke to Lucien.

  Yup.

  Danyael hesitated before asking, How is he?

  He's fine. He hasn't had much luck finding an alpha telepath willing to take on the risk of breaking the mental block in his head. Fortunately for him, my sense of caution isn't particularly well developed. Anyone stupid enough to hold on to a psychic hook in the mind of an alpha empath through a year at ADX is probably stupid enough to tackle---

  Shock fizzled through Danyael. Are you---

  Going to take a running charge at the mental block and hope it comes down.


  Does Lucien know?

  Miriya snorted. Of course, he knows. Do you really think I'm that reckless? I wouldn't take on this risk if he weren't entirely behind it as well.

  Danyael clenched his teeth. But you could damage his mind permanently.

  I'll be sure to get him to sign a waiver, just in case.

  This isn't a joke.

  No, of course it isn't, Lucien wants me to try. I intend to succeed. That's why I talked to him. I needed to find a memory of you that he could anchor to when his world comes tumbling down.

  Did you find it?

  I think so. The part of the memory I don't understand is why you decided to take the name of the bodyguard who tried to kidnap Lucien.

  Because Danyael Sabre sounds cooler than John Doe?

  You do know that you killed him, don't you?

  Not at that time, but later, yes.

  Miriya made a gagging sound. That's bloody morbid.

  Lucien didn't tell you the full story.

  What's the full story?

  Danyael was Lucien's surrogate father for more than a decade. Damien Winter did not have much time for his son, so Danyael filled the gap. He taught Lucien how to ride a bicycle, sail a yacht, and drive a car. He taught Lucien how to hunt, swim, and ski. When Danyael turned on Lucien, he shattered Lucien's faith in friends and people. I took Danyael's name to salvage his memory, to be to Lucien everything that Danyael had once been to him.

  Lucien...never said that.

  Danyael sighed, a quiet sound. We never talk about that day. He never talks about the original Danyael either.

  Why?

  Lucien lost a great deal that day. The memory is still painful.

  Miriya snorted. It sure didn't seem painful to me when he was telling the story. He glossed right over the bodyguard part. He spoke only of you.

  Sometimes people avoid speaking of things they feel deeply about.

  And sometimes people don't bother speaking of things they care nothing for.

  Danyael shook his head. We won't ever agree on that point.

  We better come to agreement on at least one thing. Do you think that memory will be strong enough to anchor Lucien when I start taking his mind apart?

  Did he? Danyael slowly dragged himself to a sitting position. His back muscles clenched in protest, but he swallowed the low grunt of pain. He buried his face in his hands, pressing icy fingertips against his forehead. He weighed the potential pleasure of their restored friendship against the terrible risk Lucien would have to take. I think so. The emotions associated with that particular memory, whether positive or negative, are strong.