chapter 8
Kevin closed his eyes against the nightmare that had battered its way through his blocks. It was an unfamiliar experience, shocking . No one had ever gotten in there, behind his mask. Nor did he want them there. The force was clearer to him now. This wasn't one very strong mind, but many weaker ones bound together. And yet not entirely together; their gestalt was like an octopus, separate tendrils supporting one another, working in unison to pry him and the others apart. Their monstrous forms were, of course, illusion. He took his own mind from its box, a keen, razor-edged saber, a sleek and deadly thing. He cut in small slices at fast, but with precision, one tentacle at a time. Panic. They hadn't considered him a threat-hadn't been able to see, even, that he was a teep. It was his mother's parting gift, this invisibility. Whick, whick-snicker-snack They fell away, but his mind was starting to ache, like a muscle clenched too tightly for too long. One of the Psi Cops shook loose, saw what was happening, and his pistol barked. The priest went down. Again, and what remained of the octopus flew apart, worms wriggling away, trying to burrow into the earth. In a few minutes it was over; those who were not dead had surrendered. Kevin surveyed them. No longer monsters, they were old men and women, children. "As I said," he breathed. trying not to sound weak, "search the cave." Something sweet touched his lips. "Sir!" Natasha whispered. 168 His nose was bleeding, and he was weeping tears of blood. "Sir, I didn't know-" "I did not intend for you to know, Ms. Alexander. Or anyone else for that matter. If the normals ever discover that the director of Psi Corps is a telepath. . ." "Yes, sir. No one will know, sir." He nodded wearily. "It's our destiny, not theirs, Ms. Alexander. Never forget that." "I never will, sir." "This is all we found, sir." It was like metal, smooth and hard, but with a faint shimmering and shifting that was not like metal at all. He recognized it instantly as being like the artifacts from Mars. When he touched it, he felt a vague shock, and for an instant he was back in the storm of his mother's death, staring up at the Shalako in fear and wonderment. He handed the small shard back to Natasha, watching for a reaction . If she felt anything, she did not show it. "It was on the altar, sir. There was no sign of any equipment that might have been used to manipulate genes." "They subradared the whole place?" "Yes, sir. Nothing." "Well. For the moment, at least, we seem to have reached a dead end. There are more sites like this?" "A few." "Check them out. Take more people this time, and if the places have guardians, take no chances. Use gas or nerve collapsers. There are questions I want answers to."
Chapter 9
It took him a good long while to stop gritting his teeth. Fiona was managing the chopper pretty well for someone who had never flown one-which was to say that every moment he spent looking at the windows sent his life flashing before his eyes. So he concentrated on other things. Binding and gagging TealMontoya , for instance. He uplinked long enough to get a fix on their location and a map of the area, then cut the satellite link, after which he methodically shut off anything else which might help Psi Corps, local cops, or anyone else following them. Fiona made exactly one call on the local link, spoke in what sounded like gibberish for ten seconds or so, and then let him shut it down, too. Half an hour later, she landed the craft in a small clearing next to a lake. "We get out here," she said. "In the jungle?" "Yes." "What about the Psi Cop?" In answer, she opened the door and dumped the now-conscious Psi Cop onto the ground. He lay there, glaring at them. Fiona ignored that, ran to the back door, and opened it. "Matthew?" he heard her say. "How is he?" Stephen asked, scanning the surrounding jungle. Teal-Montoya's gun felt good in his hand. "Still unconscious." "He's got a pulse, though." "Yes," she snapped, a little irritably. "Listen," he said, "not that I want any thanks, or anything . . ." She softened. "I'm sorry, Stephen. I'm just worried about him. That was-what you did back there was wonderful. You saved me 170 from something very unpleasant, and I don't know how I'll ever make it up to you." She smiled, and it was a very nice smile. She held out her hand, and he took it, felt the tingle of her gratitude. "We make a good team," he managed, wondering why the words sounded so thick and dumb in his throat. "Of course, I'm fresh out of plans, now." "Don't worry about that. I think I can pick up the ball for a while." She cocked her head winsomely. "You'll have to explain about the nerve toxin someday." "Oh. I was a chemist, hard as that may be to believe, and I worked for a pharmaceutical company. Cobra venom is a nerve toxin, and with that and a few handy prison-camp supplies you can make some pretty interesting things." "Apparently so." He liked the sound of her admiration. Too bad about the half-truth-he had studied chemistry, and had even made the nerve toxin, but with items Vacit had had smuggled to him. Oh, well-praise based on false accomplishments was better than no praise at all. "So," he asked. "What now?" "Now? Now I would suggest lowering your pistol, at least for the moment." Stephen followed her gaze, and realized he was staring down the barrel of a rifle. All around him, the forest whispered as a small army appeared. "Stephen Walters, I want you to meet Helang" Helang was a small man with the quick black eyes of a predatory bird. Like the rest of his twenty-some-odd people, he wore camouflage. "I don't know you," Helang said. "He helped me escape," Fiona said. "I vouch for him." Helang considered for another moment or two, then nodded briskly. "This way, then." He motioned out into the forest. "What about the chopper?" Stephen protested. "We'll take care of that," Helang replied. "You'll ditch it?" "No, Mr. Walters. We'll use it. But first we will lead your pursuers on a merry chase." "What about the Psi Cop?" "Don't worry about him, either," Helang said, his smile a little nasty. Stephen glanced at Teal-Montoya. Serves you right, you son of a bitch, he thought. I wanted to snap your neck myself when- He suddenly realized that he might be sending and cut himself off. Fiona didn't seem to have noticed, anyway-she had turned to Helang and begun chatting in a language he didn't know. I'm just along for the ride, now, he reminded himself. They followed a trail through the jungle for a few hundred feet, two of Helang's men carrying Matthew. They came to the bank of a river, where several very long canoes were tied up. The unconscious Matthew went in one, between the two men who were carrying him. Fiona, three of Helang's men, and he crowded into another. Someone handed him a paddle. "We're going to paddle? Paddle away from Psi Cops with helicopters?" "Paddles don't leave chemical trails or send out EM pulses or even generate heat," Fiona pointed out. "And the canopy will keep us from visual sightings from the air. Have a little faith, Stephen. We'll be using faster transportation soon enough." "What now?" he asked, about an hour later as they put in at a small kampung. Fiona got out of her canoe and went to check on Matthew, and Stephen followed. "There's a link here," she explained. "They're just checking in to see where the cops are-where it is and isn't safe to go." "Who the hell are these guys?" "They call themselves the Orang Ash," she said. "It's an old term for the aboriginal people." "Some of these guys don't look aboriginal to me. That one's blond." Fiona nodded, wiping Matthew's face with a damp rag. "It's just a name. They have different backgrounds." "But they aren't telepaths." "No. They're revolutionaries, of a sort, mostly refugees from Sarawak and Kalimantan. The Indonesian Consortium forcibly resettled them here back in the thirties, when they controlled Malaysia. They want their homeland back." "And this has what to do with us?" Stephen asked. "The telepath underground has worked with them before," Fiona said. "We supply them with our special kind of information; they help us move people along the underground railroad in this part of the world." "Whoa. `We've worked with them before'? Underground railroad ? What have I fallen into, here?" "Welcome to the resistance, Stephen." She considered for a moment. "You have two choices now. I can do my best to get you away from here-to somewhere safe. Change your identity, have some fake test results forged. Or-" She turned her gaze on him. "We need people like you, Stephen." He had known the offer would come, of course-it was what Vacit had counted on-but somehow it was still a jolt. Fiona was sincere, fiercely so, and though she wasn't trying to broadcast, her passion leaked. "I'll-ah-can I think about it?" "Of course." Helang came back and squatted dow
n near them. "Problem." he said. "The usual connection in Singapore won't fly. In a week or so, maybe-" "In a week or so, they'll find us." A little cough interrupted them, and they turned to see that Matthew had opened his eyes. They were fixed on Fiona, as if she were the only thing he could see, but he spoke to all of them. "I know another way," he said. "At least, I think I do." A giant opened the door. His ebony features swayed over them for an instant before a huge grin nearly bisected them. "Brother Matthew!" Matthew clasped the giant in a hug, then held him at arm's length. "Still growing, I see!" he said. "Only in my heart, I hope. The beds here are too short for me as it is." A frown crossed his features. "We thought you had been taken." "I was. Brother Justin, please meet Fiona Temple and Stephen Walters, my earthly saviors." Fiona found herself gaping at the whole exchange, as she took in the giant's brown robes, the crucifix and rosary about his long neck. "You-you're a priest?" she asked Matthew. Matthew placed a hand on her shoulder. "No. I was a monk, for a time, here. But---2' "But Brother Matthew was not content to let trouble come to him," Justin finished. "He would rather go into the world and find trouble. And bring it here, apparently. Please, all of you, be welcome ." He made the sign of the cross, and they stepped into what seemed a limestone cathedral. It was a natural cave, or mostly natural. They had climbed for almost two hours up the steep side of a sort of mesa before finding the little door-still some two hundred feet or so short of the top. They could see out the top, now-a shaft of sunlight speared into the chamber from a natural opening above, its light falling near an altar. "You know why I came here?" Matthew asked. "I hate to put the order in danger, but-" "But you have need of us. I understand, Matthew." Another monk approached them, this one considerably shorter than Brother Justin. Older, too. He had a round, pleasant face. "This is Brother William," Justin told them. "He can be trusted." Brother William smiled glowingly at each, as they were introduced . "Brother Matthew! I have heard so much about you, and it's a pleasure to finally meet." Matthew nodded, but as he reached to take the monk's hand, his legs wobbled. "Please, our pardon!" Brother Justin said, reaching for Matthew. "Of course you need rest, food, medical care." "No time," Matthew said. "It will take time to arrange your travel," Brother William soothed, "certainly a few hours. You will be safe here until then." Matthew nodded reluctantly. "Come, Matthew," Brother Justin said. "Let me take you and Stephen to clean up and eat. Brother William will make certain Ms. Temple has the privacy to do the same." "Thank you, Brother Justin," Matthew said. He took Fiona's hand. "It's okay. You can trust them." She nodded, and turned to follow William. They left the sanctuary and began moving though Human-cut corridors. Brother William glanced over at her. "I was sorry to hear about Monkey." "Thank you." She wasn't really surprised. The Church was one of their staunchest allies, though very cautious of the aid it gave them. Monkey had dealt often with them. "Well. He left something here for you. Would you like to see it?" "Left it? When?" "Long ago." "Please. I'd like to see it now, if I may." "First bathe and eat. I'll bring it to you soon." "Now, please." William shrugged. "If you wish." "Damn, that feels good," Stephen said, easing into the steaming water. "Double damn." "I agree," Matthew murmured from his own tub a few yards away. He closed his eyes and lay back. "Thank you." "For?" "Helping Fiona. Stopping the Psi Cop from-" "Hey, my pleasure, believe me. So, Matthew. Are you a part of this resistance, too?" "Sometimes." "Is that how you and Fiona met?" "No. We met in the holes." Stephen sat up. "I thought the holes were isolation cells." Matthew nodded. "They put us too close." Matthew's tattoo was just showing. A P 12. At the sight of it he felt a surge of resentment, and Matthew noticed it. "Sorry" Stephen said. "I'm just a lousy P8." "None of us can help how he is born," Matthew said. "It's what we do with what we have that's important. And you-without you, things would be very bad for Fiona and me right now. Very bad." "I don't know. Fiona's quite a gal. She would've come up with somethin'." "She is amazing," Matthew agreed, and Stephen found himself disliking his tone, too. The image was a little blurry, as if the crystal was not quite compatible with the reader. Or perhaps it was the film of tears she kept wiping away. Grandpa Monkey's face filled the screen. "Fee, if you're lookin' at me here, it means I'm dead. I've left a few of these around for you, not knowin' when and where you'll come across 'em, but 1 do know they won't get handed out till I'm on the slab. So. "I've raised two kids in my life, Fee, neither of 'em my own. The first one was your father, the second one was you. I'm sorry you missed your father-I know I haven't talked much about him. When I found him, he was just a little thing. It took me years to learn what happened to him, what made him like he was. His mother died holding him, killed by normals. They were both telepaths, and I think ... I think she took something with her when she left, and left something else behind. I've never known anyone so driven and so passionless all at the same time. Anyway. "I lost him for a while, and when I saw him again he gave me you. I don't know anything about your mother at all, Fee. And your father-" He scrunched his face in unaccustomed lines of pain, or regret, or both. "Your father didn't want you in Psi Corps. He was absolutely clear about that. Clear. And you know how I feel about the whole thing. Anyway, I promised him I would take care of you, though the last thing 1 wanted was to raise another brat. "You turned out to be a good brat, though. You're everything your father wasn't. You have passion, kindness, love, honesty. Your pop wasn't a bad guy just cold, very cold. I think him givin' you to me was the closest thing to love he's ever been able to do-well, maybe the second closest thing. So take it as a compliment. "I'm rambling, and I hate thinking about my own mortality, which th is damn morbid business is doin'-so, two things. "One: If I'm dead, and you're not-surprise, kid, you're the leader of the resistance. I've been puttin' this damned thing together for umpty years, and it's finally gettin' a little steam behind it. So I'm goin' to tell you where to find all the information I probably just blew up-the cells and their contacts, the underground railroad routes, all the good restaurants along the way, yadaBabylon yada-yada. You may want to do this or you may not. If not, pass it on to someone else-I'm dead, I don't care." He paused again, and his brows arched in amazement. "Well, whadaya know, I do. Look, Fiona, this is important. A hundred and fifty years ago, there were no telepaths. This is still the start of things, but things have a tendency to get set in their ways in the beginning. Listen, Fee. Telepaths are from every country, every ethnic group, every religion. But they are your people. We are becoming a people, that's inevitable, because normals will never accept us entirely. We have to find a way to hang together. Psi Corps--they found one answer to that, but it's the wrong answer. Very wrong. "The resistance isn't an answer, Fiona. It's the search for answers . It's an effort to create possibilities, to give us many roads to choose from. When I was young, I didn't think anything was important . I just loved to cause trouble. I thought of myself as chaos, spreadin' anarchy just for the hell of it. Live and learn. Now I want my people to have choices. Given choices, some of us will eventually hit on the right path for teeps. There's a very simple word for what I'm talking about, but simple words tend to lose their meanings when you say them too much. Freedom. That pretty much sums it up, when you do the addition. "So, there, that was One, and a very long One at that. Here's Two, not quite so long. "Two: I love you, Kid. Go get 'em." Stephen lay looking at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Everything seemed to be going according to plan, but something was bothering him, something itching in the back of his brain. A few moments later, he gave up, stepped into the loose pants the monks had provided him, and padded out into the corridor. He found the sanctuary again. It was night, and the only light was cast by the candles at the altar. So far, so good. He had accomplished his first two goals-won Fiona's confidence and gotten them out of the reeducation camp. He was as good as in with the underground. So what was bothering him? The camp had gotten to him, maybe more than he wanted to admit. He didn't really have sympathy for rogues, but nobody deserved that kind of treatment. Still, when the Corps was stronger, they would surely correct the situation
. The camps were bad because they were controlled by normals. Teal-Montoya-he was just a bad apple, a typical petty chieftain, exercising what he saw as his prerogative. Hell, if he had been in Montoya's place, ordered to get a child on Fiona, wouldn't he have done the same thing? He felt a sudden flush of anger and shame at the thought, and that took him by surprise. He liked to think of himself as a pragmatic fellow, who did the things that needed to be done. He had rarely felt guilty in his life, most certainly not for a lascivious thought. But Fiona-he sighed. He was no dummy. He had to admit that he liked her, perhaps more than liked her. He had been ordered to protect her, but he would have done it regardless, because it felt right. Which would make it tough to betray her, when the time came. But according to the game plan, that time was still in the future , perhaps the distant future. He could worry about that later, couldn't he? None of that was what bothered him. He was still trying to trace the source of his unease when he saw shadows moving among the candles. Fiona rose and dressed, followed the silent call in near darkness . She found Matthew waiting for her at the head of the corridor , just outside of the sanctuary. For a long moment, they stood a yard or so apart, just looking at each other, saying nothing. His eyes were polished iron, translucent jewels- That's your own reflection, his mind wisped. She felt her blocks snap up, shutting him out. "It's funny, isn't it?" he whispered aloud. "How our faces and bodies get in the way?" "It's just -1 mean, it's all so fast. This is the first time we've really met." "No. It's the first time we've drawn apart." He held out his hand, his gaze so steady on hers she couldn't bear it, so she closed her eyes. But his were still there, only brighter, deeper, and then she really did see herself in them. Her own features, the ones she hadn't been able to picture clearly in the hole. She had seen them in mirrors, of course, evaluated them, wondered if her nose was too small or her eyes too wide apart-but now her face blazed, and it was beautiful, and she wondered how she could have ever forgotten what it looked like. Gently, like silk sliding to the floor, her blocks went down, and she touched his hand. He stepped forward, his hand cupping gently behind her head, but she was hardly aware of that. They were already kissing when his lips touched hers. A hundred feet away, Stephen felt the kiss like a knife in his heart. Pretty damn good for a guy who did nothing but lay there while I saved her, he thought. He nurtured the anger for a moment, turned it this way and that until it made sense. Fine. This would just keep him from being a damn fool. It would allow him to do what he had to do. But it still hurt. He was turning to go when he noticed someone else moving in the sanctuary. At first he thought it was one of the priests, but something about the way he moved, pantherlike, triggered something in him, and it all clicked into place. Brother William. He had seen the monk before, at the academy. He was Corps.
Babylon 5 10 - Psi Corps 01 - Dark Genesis - Birth Of Psi Corpus (Keyes, Gregory) Page 15