by K. T. Hanna
“Hundreds of years and we still have chauvinistic pigs. She gave as good as she got, though?” Bastian can’t help but smile.
“Better. One hit glanced off her face, and she almost gave the guy a concussion with one punch in retaliation. Admittedly, she did pack her punches with skill. Her speed and ability to reinforce her strength with psionics are what make her lethal.”
“The shot came after?”
“Just as the crowd was warming to her. They even sent in a kid with the demands.” Dom shakes his head and avoids Bastian’s gaze for a moment.
“What?”
“If I hadn’t been trying to save the kid, too, she wouldn’t have been hit at all.”
“Tell me...” Bastian pauses, thinking of the best way to phrase it. “If you hadn’t saved the kid, would the mob have tried to kill you both?”
“I can’t say with certainty,” Dom admits.
Bastian pushes the point. “But you know they wouldn’t have dismissed the death of one of their children, don’t you?”
“That seems extremely unlikely. Even if the culprit was one of their own, they were appreciative of him being saved.”
“That’s it exactly. Don’t blame yourself, Dom. She’s fine.” Bastian waits for his words to sink in. “And you caught the culprit, right?”
“No.” Dom grimaces and puts his head in his hands as a ripple of emotion passes over his frame. “I spent too long making sure she’d be okay, and they caught the culprit.”
“Not too long. She’s alive, and the child is alive. Those are both very good things.”
“Then why do I feel so...” Dom searches for a word. “Guilty?”
Bastian eyes his friend, weighing exactly what to say. Dom is still developing, taking on pieces of what he can be. “Because you’re far too human for your own good. Might want to block out that emotion from your connection before the others go insane trying to process it.”
“Human emotion can be a weakness.” Dom’s eyes grow distant for a while before he blinks them back to normal. “She gets under your skin.”
“Sai?” Bastian glances back to the door into the other rooms. “She does a bit, doesn’t she?” He clears the table off and puts the trays back on the cart outside his door. “I’m due to make another drop this weekend. I’ll meet Mathur, make the delivery and verify the next step. We need to set things in motion before you go for your lab visit. I wish we could avoid you having to go in.”
Dom hesitates for a moment. “I actually think I might need a check-over at the moment. I’ve been having occasional blackouts.”
Bastian doesn’t look up, but flicks through a few files as they come in. “You always have blackouts. That communication channel has always worried Mathur.”
“Not blackouts of sound and communication. Blackouts of myself...where I lose my sense of self and of control over anything. Sai said I rainbowed.”
That draws Bastian’s attention. “Sai saw one of these?”
“While we trained. It didn’t last long, but I’m not the most comfortable thing to be around when I can’t control my appearance.” Dom turns away, an uncharacteristic sag to his shoulders.
“Rainbowed doesn’t sound like a good thing. I’ll bring it up with Mathur and see what he thinks.”
“Thanks.” Dom finally sits down again, but manages to appear uncomfortable while doing so. Bastian can’t help but chuckle.
“By the way...” Dom leans back a little, taking a reader off Bastian. “We need a nicer transport. Give the girl a break. Spoil her a bit while you can. You’ll owe her enough soon.”
“Fine.” Bastian rummages in his desk and throws a tiny chip at Dom. “Take mine. I’ll take care of the electrical registrations. Just be nice to it. Took me forever to get a GNW-4 class transport.”
“Nice.” Dom seems satisfied.
Bastian watches in fascination as the adrium closes around the chip on Dom’s wrist. “Mele still not ready?”
A pained expression crosses Dom’s face. “No. I should have known better than to allow her to be piloted by anyone but me.”
“That bad?”
“Not completely. She just needs time to regenerate. The vast majority of her construction is adrium. In a very real sense, she’s partially sentient. Her reserves can fuel through me. Our components were made to work together. She’ll be ready soon.”
“Good.” Bastian stretches and cracks his neck. “Briefing time. Sai has three assignments we need done in the next ten days. I don’t have time for them and hope you can keep her safe enough to get through them unscathed. If you need to, step in, understood?”
Dom nods and looks at his own copy of the commands as they start organizing their transport route.
The GNW board of directors meets at least twice a week depending on the time of year and the agenda they need to cover. Bastian dreads the days with a passion, and not just due to the need to tone down his levels with Shine.
Deign sits at the head of the table to his left. The irony of sitting at her right hand never ceases to amuse him. She waits patiently, toned legs crossed while she studies her nails. Bastian tries to ignore the flickering lights through the large boardroom windows. The view of the advertisement interface from here never fails to irritate him.
Zach takes his place opposite Bastian. Markus files in and plops himself down next to Bastian with a brief friendly smile. Davis, the lead on the current leg of the Domino Project and head of the scientific research division, saunters in with his trusty sidekick Selwyn. They barely glance at Bastian. It’s difficult for Davis to squeeze his portly figure into the chair next to Zach, but he manages eventually.
Harlow follows closely behind them and takes her seat next to Markus with a curt nod. She’s in charge of security and intel, with a hand in all the computerized systems throughout GNW. Her dark brown hair is twisted neatly up on her head, and her eyes constantly change between blue and green, depending on which facet of the security system her implants are interfacing with.
Markus leans over and interrupts Bastian’s train of thought. “I’ve got the culprit locked down. How’s Sai?”
“Well as can be expected.”
“Adapting well?”
“Better than anticipated.”
“Excellent.” The older man claps Bastian on the shoulder and smiles.
Harlow’s assistant, Lourd, nudges Selwyn to the side of the room and the small station usually reserved for them. He glares at her, but apparently thinks better than to argue and takes his assigned place with a scowl on his face. In the meantime, the military coordinator Jameson files into the room, closing the door behind him. It’s hard for Bastian to forget that half of these people opposed his taking over his father’s role a few short years ago.
“Great.” Deign pushes herself to a standing position, not a crinkle in her freshly pressed suit, and taps the table lightly to activate the interface screens. “We have a long agenda today.” She glances down at her section of table as notes flash through to her.
“Thank you, Bastian, for renegotiating the produce treaty. Let your student knows she’s appreciated.”
Bastian bows his head politely.
“I need department budgets by next week’s meeting if you haven’t already turned them in.” Again she smiles at Bastian. He squirms a little, despite efforts not to. Being efficient is part of his nature; he doesn’t do it to outshine anyone.
“What we need to discuss today are ways to counter the Exiled threat spreading through our cities.” Her tone is grim and all movement in the room stops.
Harlow clears her throat. “I’m initiating a damper field around the cities to identify non-GNW citizens. It works in conjunction with bracelets and chip implants.”
“We’ve also increased patrols around the perimeters of each city,” Markus says in his quiet, commanding voice. “Identifiers will pulse through checkpoints more frequently, and thanks to the recording Bastian’s protégé took of the false IDs used to circumvent secur
ity, we have a better idea of what to search for.”
“How do you plan on seeing through the forgeries?” Zach asks, crossing his arms and smirking.
Bastian suppresses a sigh, and Jameson butts in. “Genetically. All patrols will have at least one person with the dormant psionic gene.”
Markus nods and continues his explanation. “I’m coordinating with Bastian to ensure full suggestion through the grid so citizens check twice when an ID is scanned for high-risk purchases. If we suggest those are more suspect, they will think it.”
Deign nods. “You need to be stricter with the suggestion grid anyway, Bastian. I’ve had news of some murmurings in the further blocks. Clamp down on that. A populace who thinks they’re happy is happy.”
Bastian nods and reminds himself to breathe. It’s not the first time since she backed his tenure as dean that he’s done Deign’s work for her. “I’ll revise the thought influence divisions and have them for you next week.”
“Fantastic.” Deign smiles and carries on with the meeting. The rest passes in a blur.
It’s not until he walks the halls back to his rooms that he has his first run-in with the girl he assigned to Deign. She barrels into him just shy of his quarters and ends up grabbing at his arm, clutching it as if to keep her balance.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Bastian. I didn’t see you.”
He looks into those insincere eyes and follows her body down to where she’s clutching his gloved hand.
She moves away at the scrutiny, blushing slightly.
“I believe what you need, Nimue, is prolonged physical contact, which my gloves do not allow. A nice ruse, but you forget I know what you can do because I picked you and sent you into Deign’s care. If you’d like, I can remove this...” He slowly, deliberately never breaking eye contact, removes each finger of the soft leather gloves that used to be his father’s. He holds out his bare hands to her. “...and we can really see who’s stronger?”
Nimue pales and backs up a few steps.
“Or else, you can make sure you don’t pull this stunt again on me or any of mine. I’ll leave you to run back and wish your dear mentor better luck next time.”
Nimue takes the chance to nod once, murmuring under her breath, “Thank you, Mr. Bastian,” and sprints off down the hallway.
“Damn,” he mutters as he puts his gloves back on. “She chose the second option.”
Bastian sits in the smoky tavern’s back room pretending to take part in a pokshu game. His cleverly woven guise will make even the hardiest psionic believe that’s what he’s doing and discourage their attention at the same time. While illusions might only be good for stationary implementations of confusion, they’re ideal for the current situation.
Trying to illusion a moving target on the other hand... Bastian chuckles and earns an odd look from Mathur.
“Amused?” the older man asks, a well-worn card flying from his hand.
“Too often for my own good.” Bastian sighs and glances at the card. A fisher king? He wracks his brain for the rules. It’s been far too long since he played, and he’s exhausted.
Mathur grins slyly, and Bastian knows the man is aware of his card predicament. “You seem tired. For how young you are, you should have more of the exuberance, my friend.”
“Your jokes really aren’t going to work on me today, old man. I don’t have the energy to laugh.” Bastian takes a sip of the freezing cold ale Garr is so good at providing and places a meteor card on the table. If he remembers correctly, it trumps most things. He’s not stupid enough to be seen in the same tavern he was on the last drop, but Garr owns most of them in the far blocks of cities under one name or another. Makes organizing meeting places easier.
He wonders what it would have been like to grow up a normal selfish teenager who didn’t give a crap about his parents or how he got what he wanted in life. Kind of like Zach. The thought is a bitter one and leads to dark places he knows he should currently avoid. Dwelling on the past is never productive. He’s already missed most of whatever Mathur just said.
“Can you repeat that?” Bastian stifles a yawn. Mathur’s slight accent always lulls him.
Mathur’s brows pinch. “How often are you dosing, Bastian?”
“Too often. I’ve had some close calls and a surprise visit. Not sure how much longer I can keep this up.”
“Just be careful. If you do it for too long, you will get sick or lose control. We do not need them to deem you dangerous and place you down in that damned research lab.”
“I get it, believe me I do.” Bastian pauses for a moment to pull his facade into place. It’s so much easier to close himself off in the short run. “I’ve been getting it ever since Mason decided his place was better with you.”
Mathur smiles sadly. “Mason did not think he could keep up the pretense as you do. And you have to know he was probably right.”
Bastian glares at the glass in his hands and his few remaining cards, aware the meteor only prolonged the inevitable. Mathur always wins. “Doesn’t mean he should have abandoned me to Father’s fate. It was hell to hold onto what was ours.”
“But you did.” Mathur pats his hand.
“Only because I made myself indispensable.” Bastian can still taste the bitterness inside. He takes a deep breath, done with that topic for now. “We’re almost there. I think Dom will help Sai be ready by the time we need her.”
“Are you sure this will work?” Mathur sounds dubious.
“Sai is complicated. With each of these missions, she’ll figure more out about the stark reality.” Bastian takes a breath and sips the beer again. “Information about the Exiled is starting to circulate. The first elimination will be directly after she returns from her last mission. With the right push, I can make her listen. Once there’s a question in her head, Sai won’t let go of it. Passion and anger are her triggers. Without them, she doesn’t have the strength we need from her.” He glances at the hand on the table and scowls, throwing the remainder of his cards down.
“And with them?” Mathur prompts, unable to hide his grin at victory.
“With them?” Bastian turns the glass in his hands. “She could be my twin.”
“Perfect.” Mathur starts to stand so they can leave, but Bastian stops him.
“One more thing before you go.” Mathur eyes him warily and sits back down. “Dom is having blackouts.”
Mathur leans forward, listening intently. “They always have blackouts. He is not in sync with the others’ communication centers and that idiot Davis does not know any better.”
“It’s not just communication blackouts. He has moments of interference, causing him to lose control and become rainbowed, as Sai calls it.”
“He loses his ability to maintain the chameleon phase?” Mathur’s eyebrows raise and a shadow lingers over his eyes.
“From what he told me, yes.”
“That should be impossible.” Mathur sighs and buries his head in his hands for a few seconds before looking back up. “Dom is my pride and joy. I never intended to create more just because he lived for so long. I am certain my directions were not followed properly when they created the rest in my absence.” The old man runs a hand through thinning hair. “The only thing I can think of is that it is something in the others. The communication channel is a remnant left over from the Damascus stage of the project. Dominos should not need it. Dom should be having no problems; in fact, he should be constantly adapting, taking on human traits, habits, and appearances.”
“He is.” Bastian reaches out and grabs his friend’s hand to try and soothe him. “You’d be surprised. He seems to have grown attached to Sai. She views him as a person and calls him Dom, too. I think you’ll like her when you finally meet.”
Mathur’s eyes grow distant. “You think? I have ruined enough young lives. I do not want to ruin anymore.”
Bastian stands up and starts to put his coat back on. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you silly old coot. You’ve saved more lives
with your research than it’s possible to count. When Ebony is ready, I believe you’ll save a lot more. But once that happens and people have a defense against the suggestion grids, I hope you’re ready for the war we’ll have on our hands.”
The old man stands and clasps hands with Bastian, a proud smile on his face. “More than ready.”
“Good. That makes two of us.”
Bastian doesn’t expect to find Deign waiting outside his door when he gets back. He’s relieved he didn’t choose to make it an unsanctioned outing. Luckily, she doesn’t have Zach’s uncanny ability to sense power, so there’s no need to frantically dose himself.
“Deign,” he says, inclining his head in greeting. “What gives me the pleasure?”
“Me.” She has a snarky smile, whether she’s being nice or not. Her height doesn’t bug him as much as she’d like it to, and she stands behind him, watching over his shoulder as he opens his door, and follows him in.
“You finally got the entrance fixed?” she asks, though he knows she’s fully aware of it since the masons were paid out of GNW funds.
Bastian sighs softly, glad he has nothing out on his desk she could possibly want to peek at or play with. Deign is one of those annoying people who wants to touch and try everything. Physical touch empaths are too tactile for his tastes.
He leans against the desk and watches as she makes the rounds of his room. Never one to hurry if she doesn’t want to, Deign will get around to telling him why she’s graced him with her presence once she’s good and ready.
“So.” She stops, hands on hips. “You scared my protégé, you know?”
“Then perhaps you had better see to her training. She’s as obvious and amateur as a bull in a china shop—pardon the cliché.”
“But she’s my protégé. Show her more respect.” Deign’s tone is dangerous, but Bastian doesn’t feel like playing games so he glares at her.
Deign tries the pout approach, her lips faintly glossed with something to give the appearance of volume. “It’s to hone her skills.”
“Get her to hone them elsewhere.”
This time Deign laughs. “But you know that’s futile. If she can get through your shields, she can get through anyone’s. And I’m willing to bet your surprise student is close to as good as you.”