Prisoner of the Mind

by Kal Spriggs

  When it came to it, his men wouldn’t have trusted anyone else at the lead.

  The team moved with a fast shuffle in two groups of four. Each man had his own sector of fire. Their rifles swept across short arcs as they panned past doorways. Tommy King peered ahead with narrow eyes. They had cleared the last of the occupied areas already and the team’s movement down the dark corridor sounded like a soft patter of rain on a wood roof.

  His military implant projected a heads-up-display directly into his visual cortex. The sensor feed from that showed a heat source, roughly man-sized just around the corner ahead. It had no identity beacon and if it had an implant, it didn’t show on his sensors. That meant he’d found at least one of the intruders.

  “Archon Six, this is Reject Six, we’re on level one for escalation of force, correct?” Tommy King sub-vocalized to Colonel Givens.

  The ESPSec officer answered immediately, “Reject Six, lethal force is authorized. Any intruders are to be considered armed and extremely dangerous. Bring them down, we’ll worry about reports later.”

  “Hooah,” A couple of his men grunted over the team net. Tommy King gave a jackal’s grin behind his helmet. He couldn’t agree more. As any true professional, he loved his job.

  He somehow doubted the soon-to-be-dead intruder was a colonial terrorist. Even so, he could hope that might prove to be the case. And from what he’d heard, two of the mercs on external security had gone silent. Tommy King didn’t much like mercenaries. Even so, they were on his side and he doubted whoever took them down had left them alive. That made the intruder the bad guy.

  Tommy King made bad guys dead.

  ***

  The SIGIL strike team moved down the corridor, and the team leader grimaced as he sensed the presence of a psychic around the corner. He could also feel the team of normals not far beyond.

  Military response team ahead, and one psychic. We’re at the point where security will see us. Tayla, commence wireless jamming now, the team leader ordered. We hit them fast and hard and push on to our objective.

  ***

  A cold and mechanical voice in Shaden’s mind instantly identified the small round object that spun around the corner. M47 Grenade, flash-bang concussion, single use.

  An instant later, his thought was, oh shit! He dove into a doorway to his right and shoved the door shut with his mind even as he struck the floor.

  ***

  Tommy King cursed as his sensor feed went dead a heartbeat before the grenade went off. He didn’t hesitate to follow through though. He flipped up his visor as he rounded the corner.

  He froze in shock as he saw a half-dozen figures in black body armor reel back from the concussion at the end of the hallway. They had clearly stumbled into his grenade blast. He saw no sign of the lone figure his sensors picked up before.

  Tommy King’s mind catalogued the intruders even as he centered his rifle on the lead man’s head. He put two rounds into that target's face as his team fell in around him.

  ***

  Shaden shook his head as the sharp crack of gunfire pierced the ringing in his ears. He stumbled to his feet and moved away from the door. The dim light from the window revealed the stairwell he’d dived into.

  The gunfire redoubled and Shaden heard shouts and screams in the hallway. He glanced between the stairs, one led up and the other down. The solid thunk of bullets as they punched through the wall nearby made the decision for him and he rushed down the stairs.

  He tore the fire door downstairs off its hinges and dashed past. The thud of a grenade heralded the escalation of the firefight upstairs. He dashed down the hospital-like corridor until it ended in a heavy steel security door.

  Shaden skidded to a halt. The heavy steel frame and the thick armored glass made an obvious barrier. He explored at it with his mind and then tried to shift it, but the door could have come from a bank vault. Overhead, muffled by the concrete ceiling, a second explosion caused dust to sift down from the ceiling.

  Shaden took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He reached out with his mind and felt the door. He could feel the heavy anchor rods that secured the frame to the concrete around it. He could see electronic lock that had triggered the security bolts extension. To pull the door open he'd have to rip open not only the mass of the door, but pull it through the concrete wall.

  A part of him wanted to try that, to throw everything he had against the object, to see exactly what he could accomplish.

  But he didn't know what kind of opposition he might face later on.

  He reached out with his mind, felt the hydraulic system that had slammed the bolts home. Either damage from the gunfight upstairs or security measures had cut power to the electronic controls for it.

  He found the hydraulic pump that drove the system easily. He could feel its function, the simplicity of the rotary pump system surprised him.

  The pump turned the rotary force of the motor into reciprocal force, decreased pressure on the pistons, and allowed the bolts to sink into the steel frame.

  Shaden frowned, if I can push or pull, can I rotate?

  Slowly he reached out with his mind. It seemed harder than his other achievements, almost as if something in his mind recoiled from the experience. Slowly he twisted the pump's drive shaft. It took little actual effort, but the concentration and focus made his temples throb.

  He felt the pressure on the hydraulic cylinders increase and could feel the bolts slowly retract.

  ***

  Tommy King double-tapped the last of the enemy as his squad did first aid on their own wounded. He grimaced as he looked back down the corridor at the three still forms of the men from his team. Whoever these enemies were, they reacted far too quickly and professionally for mere terrorists.

  He had fought colonials before. The rebels most often collapsed when caught off guard like this. Instead, this enemy had stood and fought, and at least two of them were psychics.

  Sergeant King looked around the corridor and checked his radio again. Something or someone still jammed the net. Taken with the presence of this team, that suggested an organized attack underway. But where?

  There could only be one target.

  “Get Mendoza and Gehring mobile,” Tommy snapped. “We're moving back to the command section.”

  “Did you get through to the Colonel, Sergeant?”

  Tommy King shook his head, “No, but we need to warn her that we're under attack. If we take additional fire, break contact and the priority is to inform the CO that we've multiple attack teams onsite, very organized, probably mercs, but maybe something else.”

  ***

  Colonel Givens stopped outside the cell door. She typed her override code into the keypad. It opened and she stepped in without hesitation.

  The young girl sat in the corner, her hands rested on her folded legs. She looked absurdly young in the grey institutional sweats. She turned a face full of disinterest towards the ESPSec Colonel. “Is it time for my next class?”

  Colonel Givens stepped forward. She locked eyes with the girl. “Look at me.”

  Their brown eyes met and Colonel Givens saw confusion spread over the girl's face.

  “What...”

  “Say my name,” Givens demanded.

  “You're... Colonel Alicia Givens.” Kandergain spoke as if she didn't know where the words came from.

  “And who am I?” Colonel Givens smiled.

  The girl's eyes widened, and her face went pale. “You're my mother.”

  ***

  Chapter 28

  The military tactics and assassination techniques they taught me, I sometimes wonder if those are more deeply set into my psyche than I yet realize. I find myself analyzing every situation. I make note of every exit, of where every potential weapon is located… and as time goes on I seem more and more alert to it. Is this part of their programming or am I simply watchful because of the strain I am under? Did they program me to go on the offensive, is returning to the facility where they made me ul
timately a product of their training?

  --Memoirs of Shaden Mira

  It amused me to see the layers of conventional weapons and tactical training included in Doctor Sheng’s mental conditioning. Normals can be so limited sometimes. Yes, many psychics have been undone by weapons fire at long range… but many more have eluded such traps through mental manipulations. Still, it isn’t as if the training is worthless. These are meant to be weapons and you can only expect so much from blunt instruments.

  --Dr. Jonathan Halving, Project Archon Notes

  Jonathan Halving stopped in front of one of the heaviest security doors in the entire facility. Behind it lay the results of Project Kraken, the predecessor of Archon. He didn't have the code for this door, but with his abilities he didn't need it.

  His mind went out to the three quiescent minds behind that door. He mentally caressed those damaged and twisted minds. He had induced coma in each of the subjects when he put them in storage. Now it was a matter of seconds to wake them from that state. He could feel those minds stir awake, and as they did he carefully distanced himself from the churning emotions and insanity that filled their brains. Each of those three psychics had become the most powerful he'd ever encountered, and each of them was the horrible child of his own twisted mind. Once awake, he wouldn't have to open the door, he just needed to wait.

  He did not wait long. The massive metal door shuddered under multiple impacts. The concrete around it crackled and popped. A moment later the entire foundation shuddered as a section of wall exploded outwards ten feet further down the corridor.

  An old man, his face horribly scarred, stepped through the hole. An array of metal studs and ports jutted from the back of his shaven scalp. Empty eye sockets stared out over sunken and ravaged cheeks. The damage the man had done to himself had nearly made him another of the many fatalities in that earlier experiment.

  “Go, hunt.” Halving said. He didn't bother to give the creature any more complex directions. It wouldn't understand and it lacked the delicacy to accomplish any task beyond destruction.

  The old man punched a hole in the wall and stepped forward out of sight.

  The door continued to shudder. Finally with a groan that Jonathan felt through his boot soles, the vault door fell forward, along with most of the frame and a great deal of the walls and ceiling.

  Two women stepped out of the cloud of dust and debris. Halving knew that the younger one had once been quite beautiful. She once had cornflower blue eyes and golden hair. She'd been a model before ESPSec discovered her… but her surgical scars had ruined that. The chemical implants and multiple needle scars left her skin blotchy and bloated. Her eyes remained blue, but they were a bright, electric blue now.

  The older woman had never been pretty. The chemical cocktail that boosted her mental abilities made her body heavy and awkward. The drool and tears that ran down her face made her even less attractive.

  “Go upstairs. Kill everyone you encounter.”

  Jonathan watched them go and he felt the slightest twinge of remorse. He'd hoped to save them for something a bit more impressive. He had no doubt that they would cause mayhem, but they would be nowhere near as destructive here compared to if he had released them on a battlefield or in the middle of an enemy city.

  He turned away and he felt a broad smile crease his face. Time for the family reunion.

  ***

  Shaden jogged through hospital corridors that seemed hauntingly familiar. He skidded to a halt as he passed windows that looked in on a small operating room. Lights illuminated a bed, adorned with heavy leather straps and a tangle of sensors and machinery.

  He felt his stomach roil as dim memories of pain surfaced. This was where they'd done... whatever it was they'd done.

  He stood there for a long moment. Shaden clenched his fists so hard that his fingernails tore open his palms and he felt blood begin to run down his fingers. His pulse pounded in his head. Without conscious thought, the window exploded inwards. The operating table folded in on itself like a piece of paper crumbled in a hand.

  Shaden let out a harsh, angry breath and turned away. He couldn't give into that anger, couldn't give into the rage that boiled in his brain.

  A sudden blow of force threw him a dozen feet down the corridor. Shaden had to mentally cushion his landing and even so he struck hard enough that he bounced and skidded. He looked over to see a hideously disfigured old man stalk towards him. Metal studs jutted from his shaven scalp, and empty eye-sockets stared out of a horrifically scarred face.

  Shaden lashed out with a wave of force, but the old man countered it without any visible effort. Caught off guard, Shaden reached out towards his opponent's mind. He met no resistance. Instead, he found a hole, jagged and sharp with thoughts and emotions that seemed alien and disjointed.

  Shaden let out a scream of panic as he seemed to fall down into that mind. He could find no reference, no cohesion, only pain and suffering and the desire to inflict that on someone- anyone- else.

  Shaden lashed out again and he felt things inside the old man's mind writhe. Even so, another wave of force hammered him into the floor. The pressure steadily increased, and Shaden fought to focus, fought to think.

  The force that pressed him down into the floor made his joints pop. He tried vainly to counter the crushing force. He fought as much with his body as his mind, and it left him unable to do more than shift his head to face his attacker. The old man's strength was incredible, unstoppable.

  As his vision began to tunnel, his eyes focused on his killer's face. In his last instants of consciousness, he saw past the vacant, scarred mask and recognized the man underneath. "Officer Green?"

  The world went black.

  ***

  “What... what's going on?” Kandergain asked.

  Colonel Givens frowned, “I don't have time to explain in detail. This facility is under attack. You need to focus, to kill our attackers.” She glared at her daughter. “What are you waiting for?”

  “Who's attacking?” Kandergain asked, “What's going on?”

  “Stop asking stupid questions!” Colonel Givens snapped. “The whole purpose of this has been to draw in SIGIL, and you are to cut the head from the snake. Get off your ass you useless girl and do as you're told!”

  Kandergain stared at her mother, a slow realization seemed to grow on her face. “This, what happened to me... you did this?”

  “Yes, Kandergain, she did,” Jonathan Halving spoke from the doorway. “After she sentenced your father to death at an internment camp, she sent you into this research lab when she realized you were similarly contaminated.”

  Colonel Givens spun with viper speed. She drew her pistol and aimed it before Halving's eyes could move from Kandergain. Even so, a wave of force slammed her against the wall and ripped the pistol from her hand.

  “None of that, Colonel. After all, I've been so accommodating, even after I found out the reward my service has brought me.” Halving gloated, clearly pleased at having finally shown which of them would win under such circumstances.

  “If you attack me you sentence yourself to death. The military is going to kill everything that moves in this compound in the next few hours,” Colonel Givens grunted. “I can get you out.” She tried not to think about her pistol in her ankle holster. If Halving dropped his guard she’d plant a bullet in his head.

  “I can let myself out, thank you,” Halving smiled. He looked over at the young woman, “I can take you away, too, Kandergain. This woman doesn't deserve any kind of loyalty. Think it through. I don't coerce servitude like she will.” He tossed a business card to lie at the girl's feet.

  Halving returned his gaze to Colonel Givens. His mind reached out for hers even as he spoke. “I've one last parting gift for you Colonel, though it may take some time for you to fully appreciate it.” The ESPSec Colonel clutched at her head as he bored into her mind, “You see, your late husband wasn’t the one who gave your daughter the genes for telepathy: you were...”
>
  He smiled as the Colonel began to scream.

  ***

  Staff Sergeant King signaled his team to halt as gunfire erupted ahead of them.

  They'd almost returned to the command section, and he felt a hollow sensation in his stomach. He hoped they weren't too late.

  He risked a quick glance around the last corner, but all he could see was muzzle flashes.

  “We go in fast and hard,” Tommy said. “Don't forget there are friendlies in there. I want positive identification before you engage, but don't hesitate if they're not in our uniforms.”

  “What about the civilians and the mercs?”

  King shook his head, “We don't have time to dick around. If they're armed and shooting at any of us, take them down hard.”

  His team nodded. He fought down the sick feeling in his stomach. He'd been in worse situations before. Those had been fighting colonials, but still...

  “Alright, form on me and let’s move.”

  Tommy waited as they stacked in close, then he broke into an easy, predatory lope, rifle up and at the ready.

  Halfway down the corridor, Tommy could make out the flat black tactical gear of the enemy. He leveled his sights on the first without breaking step and put two shots through the man's head.

  Two steps and six shots later he strode over the bodies, and paused, “Clear front.”

  He heard the confirmation on their sides and rear. “Alright let's get up there and see what Colonel--”

  The ground underneath his feet quivered. A moment later a concussive wave of air knocked him backwards. Tommy rolled to his feet and coughed at the wave of dust that hung in the air. “Everyone up?”

  “Yeah, what the fuck was that, Sergeant?”

  Sergeant King shook his head, “I don't know. We're going to find out. Stay tight. Keep an eye to our rear.”