Perfect Weapon

by Jade Kerrion

  That's good enough for me.

  His mental voice remained steady in spite of his racing nerves. When...are you going to try?

  Got to work up the guts for it. Probably within a week or so. You'll be the first to know when I do. If all goes well, and it should, you'll hear directly from Lucien.

  Words could not express the depth of his gratitude. Thank you.

  Hey, happy to do my part here. It's going to be all right, Danyael, I promise. I'm going to make everything all right.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Several days, made long with training and physical therapy, passed without incident. With effort, Danyael set Miriya out of his mind. Her promise was too precious, the hope it embodied too fragile, to withstand close scrutiny. Instead, he focused on his work with the super soldiers.

  That work brought him to the general's office at the end of the day. Danyael set his crutch aside as he sat in the chair across from the general's desk. The general's office was expansive, but it was the room of a working man. A nest of electronics and technology dominated the far wall, and the conference table in the center of the room hosted long rolls of blueprints and stacks of paper files. The general had been raised in an age before technology became ubiquitous. What Danyael and others of his generation accepted as the only way of doing things was, for the general, just one of many options, one of many possible paths.

  Was the general old fashioned or merely more flexible?

  "A drink for you?" the general asked, opening the mini-fridge tucked into a corner of the room.

  Danyael shook his head.

  The general carried a can of Coca-Cola back to his desk and snapped the tab off the lid. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

  "The session today."

  "We've already discussed it at the arena. Your session with the soldiers was superb, Danyael. You're overreacting to unfounded fears."

  Danyael shook his head sharply. "I'm not, General. The arena imposes artificial constraints, specifically space. It limits the distance beyond which the fight cannot take place. In the real world, I wouldn't have the range to control the soldiers. All it would take is one mistake, and the soldiers could run amok."

  "Your control over them is impressive, even stunning. Professor Sadgati will be amazed to hear of the progress you've made. When she returns to the country, I'm sure she'd want to---" A sharp rap on the door interrupted him. The general looked up. "Come in."

  The door opened, and Reyes peered in.

  Danyael picked up on the guilt and fear weaving through Reyes, sharp enough, pungent enough to leak past Reyes's formidable psychic shields. Danyael pushed to his feet and limped to his friend's side. He grasped Reyes's arm gently, channeling peace. "What's wrong?"

  Reyes sighed quietly, the tension easing out of his body. "Thanks, Danyael." His gaze shifted to the general, and he grimaced. "Thomas says he needs to meet with me."

  The general's emotions flared with alarm. "Absolutely not. It's too dangerous."

  The old man lowered himself into a chair. His eyes were troubled, but his jaw was set. "He insists. He wouldn't if it weren't critical. I have to talk to him."

  "It could be a trap."

  Reyes snorted. "Why would anyone try to trap me? I'm just an old man, a pacifist who has lost his relevance."

  The general shook his head. "We can't securely transfer him in here to talk to you. One leak and the military police would be swarming all over us." He glanced meaningfully at Danyael. "We cannot afford that."

  "Fine, then I'll just head out to talk to him. If you can provide me with transportation and perhaps an escort---"

  Danyael felt the general's emotions flash a refusal. Before the general could speak, Danyael interjected, "I'll go with you, Reyes."

  The general shot upright in his seat. "Danyael---"

  Reyes smiled. He patted Danyael's hand. "Thank you, Danyael. I appreciate it. I do." He then looked at the general, his chin slightly raised, the unspoken challenge issued.

  The general swore aloud. His nostrils flared as he breathed heavily, staring Reyes down.

  The old man remained unfazed.

  The general scowled. "Fine. Team six will go with you. When does Thomas want to meet you?"

  "Tonight," Reyes said.

  "What? No, not tonight. Tell Thomas you need a day or two. The team will need more time to prepare contingency plans."

  "Contingency plans for what? This is a conversation, not a fight. Thomas's not going to hurt me. Besides, Danyael will be there, and your team has other alphas, right?"

  "Sakti has alphas, too," the general pointed out.

  "We're not going there to fight," Reyes said.

  "You should be prepared for one, regardless. Team six and seven will accompany you."

  Danyael nodded. "Thank you, General."

  "I'll tell them that you're in charge, Danyael. You need experience leading more than just the super soldiers, and I don't want confusion in the chain of command. The team leaders have good instincts, though; I trust you'll take their advice."

  Danyael accompanied Reyes from the general's office. Out in the corridor, he paused. "Reyes, is Thomas with Sakti?"

  "Yes, and now that the general has what he wants---you---he's probably going to disavow all association with Sakti. Can't say I blame him. Sakti's success has made Thomas brash. That kind of arrogance could get him killed."

  "Why would he want to meet you?"

  Reyes shrugged. "I don't know, but I am obligated to meet with him."

  "Because of Elysium's former association with Sakti?"

  Reyes smiled sadly. In that moment, he looked old and tired. "In part, but mostly because he's my son."

  "But you told me once that you didn't have family, that your wife and son were dead."

  Reyes met Danyael's gaze. "It's a long story. There's a lot you don't know about me. I've lived a long life. I've believed lots of things I no longer believe in; I've done lots of things I'm no longer proud of. Most of all, I'm sorry for dragging you into this."

  Danyael's smile was wry. "I think I dragged you into this. If the general hadn't been so determined to get me out of ADX, you'd still be running Elysium, and Sakti would still be hosting ineffectual protests in front of government buildings instead of breaking into them."

  Reyes laughed softly. "You are a catalyst, no question about it, but I made my own decisions."

  "What time is the meeting with Thomas?"

  "Nine tonight at Sugarloaf Mountain." Reyes dug into his pockets and pulled out a piece of paper. "Here are the coordinates."

  Danyael glanced briefly at the numbers on the paper. "I know where Sugarloaf is. It's at least an hour and a half from here, which doesn't give us much time. I'll talk to the teams. Be ready to leave at seven. I'll send one of the teams ahead to secure the meeting area."

  "You're not expecting a fight or a trap, are you?"

  "No, but as the general says, we should be prepared for one, regardless."

  ~*~

  The moon was a sickly sliver, its light wan. Danyael cast a quick glance around his surroundings, wishing he could see more than a dark blur of bushes set against gray trees. He wished his empathic senses were stronger and traveled farther. Mostly though, he wondered how he, a doctor, had landed up commanding two elite military teams.

  A young soldier glanced over his shoulder at Danyael. "The meeting point is about a hundred feet down this way. You doing all right, sir?" He reached out to steady Danyael and then recalled the other soldiers who were pushing on ahead. "Hey, guys, come back here. We need to stamp down the undergrowth a bit more. It's hard for Danyael to get through on his crutch."

  The team made quick work of the tangle of roots and leaves that caught at Danyael's crutch. "Thanks, guys," he said, moving with greater ease if not speed.

  The soldier grinned. "No problem, sir. It's our job to keep you safe from bad people and nasty weeds."

  Danyael chuckled, glancing at the soldier's name on his uniform.
Anderson. "Any word from the other team?"

  "They're in place. The area is secure. They say Thomas's arrived and is waiting in his SUV."

  "Did he bring Sakti with him?"

  "Yes, but the people he brought are mostly our folks. We're covered on that front; there won't be any problems. You know, you could get real-time updates if you'd relax your psychic shields enough to let the telepaths communicate directly with you."

  "No, thanks. I've already got too many voices in my head." Besides, he had to protect Miriya.

  Anderson laughed. He glanced back over his shoulder at Reyes. "You okay, sir?"

  "I'm fine." Reyes waved him on. The older man was breathing heavily. "These old legs just don't keep up the way they used to." He squinted. "Is that the car over there?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Reyes nodded. "You stay back, Danyael, and keep your hood up. Kieran may trust everyone in his team, but I'm not sure I trust Sakti." Reyes pushed on ahead, flanked on either side by soldiers.

  The door of the SUV opened and a young man stepped out. Danyael could see the stamp of Reyes's features in the man's face, too rough hewn to be considered handsome, but it was a strong face, nonetheless, dominated by a square jaw. Danyael reached out with his empathic senses, probing for deceit or any hint of a trap. He found none, but Thomas's emotional imprint mirrored Reyes's with uncanny accuracy. Danyael touched Anderson's arm lightly. He kept his voice low. "Tell the teams to stay alert. Something's not quite right."

  "Yes, sir."

  Two others stepped out of the vehicle, one male, the other female, their faces cast in shadow. Danyael looked up sharply. His eyes were wide, unseeing, as an achingly familiar emotional imprint sent a surge of bittersweet sensations flooding through him. "Pull back. It's a trap."

  Anderson shot him an alarmed look and then sent out a telepathic command. Up ahead, the soldiers on either side of Reyes pulled the old man away from Thomas and stepped in front of him, machine guns held at ready. All around, soldiers drew their weapons.

  "What's going on here?" Reyes demanded.

  Danyael limped forward slowly to stand next to Reyes. He pushed the hood back. "Zara."

  The woman accompanying Thomas sauntered forward, apparently indifferent to the weapons aimed at her. "Danyael. What an unexpected pleasure to see you again." Her voice was low, a seductive purr.

  His breath caught. Under the pale light of the moon, Zara Itani was more beautiful than the memory that haunted his dreams each night. With effort, he tore his gaze away from her to look at her companion who stood back, shrouded in darkness. "Galahad."

  Alarm flared through the members of the Mutant Assault Group. He sensed it in spite of their psychic shields. Orders from their team leaders must have flashed through their telepathic channels. The soldiers sprang forward, forcing Galahad and Zara to their knees and pulling their hands behind their heads. Electric cuffs locked around their wrists.

  Danyael intervened. "No, don't turn them on."

  "But, sir, we have standing orders from the general to keep them away from you."

  Had the general expected him to run back into the arms of the friends who had betrayed him? What kind of fool did the general take him for? "It's too late for that now." Danyael looked at Reyes and then at Thomas. "You came to talk, so talk."

  Thomas smirked. "So you are the guy we were sent in to save. You were in really bad shape when we found you. You're looking a great deal better." His gaze shuttled between Galahad and Danyael. "You really do look alike. I was confused when he showed up this afternoon, looking for me, insisting that I was his template."

  "What?"

  "It's impossible, of course. I'm only twenty-four; he's older than I am." Thomas looked at Reyes. "Dad, do you know what he's talking about?"

  Pained guilt poured out of Reyes. "I..."

  Danyael looked at Thomas and then back at Reyes. There was only one explanation for Thomas's empathic echo. "Reyes, he's not really your son, is he?" Danyael asked softly.

  Reyes lowered his gaze. He was silent for a long time before he finally said, "No, he's not."

  Shock ricocheted through the crowd. Fingers tensed on triggers.

  Danyael's eyes narrowed. His empathic powers uncoiled, unfurling like a banner. It wafted, subtle as an evening breeze. Shock subsided into muted surprise, tightly but unnoticeably checked by the power of an alpha empath.

  Thomas's brown eyes appeared almost black in the dim glow of the moon. They were wide and, in Danyael's world-weary opinion, painfully innocent. "I'm not?" Thomas took a few steps forward, but was held at bay by soldiers with assault rifles. "Whose son am I then?"

  Reyes laughed, low and bitter. "My father's, I guess."

  Thomas's jaw dropped. "I'm what?" He shook his head, denial scalding him in spite of Danyael's efforts to moderate his anguish. "No, no, this can't be."

  Reyes sank down on a fallen log. He interlaced his fingers around his knees and stared at the ground. "Thomas...the real Thomas died almost thirty years ago. He was only six. He'd fallen sick---something in his lungs, maybe pneumonia or bronchitis, no one knew. We rushed him to the hospital, but the doctors wouldn't help him. We didn't have insurance, and the doctors wouldn't extend charity care to an in vitro." Reyes's eyes were bleak, dark with the despair of memories. "So...so he died. He was beautiful. To us, he was perfect, except no one else saw him the same way. Sarah faded away after that. We'd both wanted a child, and she couldn't conceive or carry a child to term, so we went the in-vitro route, not knowing that we had damned our precious baby. I think she blamed herself for his death. She committed suicide on the day that would have been Thomas's eighth birthday."

  Reyes rocked slowly. He spoke quietly, almost to himself. "The need for family is the most awful need. It never goes away. It just eats you up from the inside. After I lost Sarah and Thomas, I went to geneticists, asking if they could clone Thomas. They would have had to exhume his body to retrieve his DNA." Reyes shook his head. "I couldn't do it. I wanted to remember him as he was the day we put him in the ground, so one of them offered me a clone of myself to raise as my son."

  "Let me guess," Galahad spoke up in his clear tenor. "Professor Roland Rakehell, from Pioneer Laboratories."

  Reyes looked up at Galahad. Danyael saw something hard and cold glitter behind the sheen of tears. "Yes."

  Thomas's voice was a whisper. "I'm not your son? I'm just a clone?" Rage flashed through him. "I'm just a clone?" Teeth bared, he threw himself at Reyes, but soldiers pushed him back, shoving him to the ground.

  One of the soldiers raised the butt of his gun, but Danyael caught his hand before it smashed into Thomas's face. "Stop. Can't you see he's in pain?" He ignored the murmured warnings of the soldiers and limped up to Thomas, extending his hand down to the clone. The mad gleam in Thomas's eyes corroborated Danyael's assessment of the clone's roiling emotional state. Danyael's jaw tensed as he braced himself to pull out Thomas's pain.

  Thomas looked up at Danyael, and his face twisted. He slapped Danyael's hand away before scrambling to his feet. His hate-filled glare locked on Reyes. "So that's the way it is. That's why you've been ignoring me for the past six months, ever since I freed this mutant from prison." He stalked the breadth of the clearing like a caged predator. "You've found your son again. You've found someone to take the place of the beautiful, perfect creature who died too young."

  Reyes looked up, alarmed. "Thomas, it's not---"

  "I am your son! What the hell did you take me for? Just a tool, an extension of you that you sent to do all the things you didn't want to do or couldn't do any more?" Thomas took several steps back until he was once again surrounded by Sakti. "How would you like to see your perfect, beautiful son die all over again?" He threw the order over his shoulder. "Kill him."

  Men exploded into motion, but not a single bullet was fired.

  "Don't even think about it," a voice said from behind Thomas.

  The soldiers of the Mutant Assault Group grinned broadly as Sakti
turned on itself. At least half the members of Sakti held guns to the temples of their supposed comrades.

  Thomas's eyes bulged. "What...Peter?"

  "We're only on loan to you, Thomas. The general will be furious if we let you kill Danyael Sabre on our watch." Peter Dieter stepped forward. "Disarm them," he instructed his team of allegedly deceased members of the assault group. He inclined his head to Laird Keppler and Jarrett Hagan, the leaders of teams six and seven. "It's good to see you guys again. Keep Danyael protected, will you, while I handle these terrorists?"

  "Of course."

  Peter and his team herded the mutinous members of Sakti into their vehicles. Thomas was physically hauled to the SUV and tossed gracelessly into the back seat. "You'll keep driving if you know what's good for you," Peter warned Thomas. "Effective immediately, I'm pulling my team out of Sakti. Don't be surprised to find several dozen defections by the time you get back to your little hole in the ground." He jerked his head. "Now, get going before I change my mind about not killing all of you."

  The vehicles pulled away in a spray of gravel. Peter glanced at two of his team members. "Track them. Thomas's unreliable. I don't want to be caught off-guard if he turns around." He grinned at Laird. "Can we bum a ride back to the base with you?"

  "It'll be tight, but we'll find a way to manage." Laird nudged his chin at Galahad and Zara. "What do we do with these two?"

  "Release them," Danyael said.

  "No, we can't," Peter insisted. "They know about the connection between Sakti and the assault group."

  Danyael chuckled, low and bitter. "They're both very good at keeping secrets."

  "We'll take them back to the base. The general can decide what to do with them."

  Galahad spoke up, his voice calm, his demeanor unafraid. He looked at Reyes. "I would like a chance to speak to you."