by K. T. Hanna
Jamieson files into the room, his face pale, sweat beading his brow. Bastian can’t even remember his lineage, but he knows it’s solid. The only person missing is Deign.
A few moments later, she joins them. Impeccably groomed, as always, she exhibits no overt sign of discomfort at the Damascus placed out the front. Considering she initiated the plan to reactivate them, it’s probably a good idea, even if the tiny pearls of sweat near her temples give it away to the observant.
“What?” she says as she takes in the atmosphere. “You’re telling me you don’t want more security when a few of us have been dispatched most opportunistically recently?” Everyone looks away, except Bastian who simply continues to stare at her. She gives him a small smile and continues. “We’re here to discuss the deployment of the Damascus, as well as a little incident that has recently come to my attention which took place in the early hours of the morning a few days ago.”
She smiles at everyone, and Bastian sometimes wonders if she realizes that smile doesn’t put anyone at ease. It’s a worse effort than Dom, and that’s saying something, especially since his smile is slowly becoming more human than Deign’s. She clears her throat, and her gaze hardens when it reaches Harlow. “Any luck putting the feeds together yet?”
Harlow glances up with a raised eyebrow. “I’m the one who sent it to you this morning. You know we got what I could. Owen’s had it for a couple of hours now. Wonder Boy should have something.” She doesn’t wait for a response, but triggers her implants again, effectively ending the discussion.
There’s an almost audible intake of breath around the room. Apparently Harlow’s fearlessness knows no bounds, and Bastian has to fight the urge to laugh. But apart from a half-scowl, Deign simply faces the rest of the group and continues.
“Zach, outline exactly what it is the Damascus have been assigned to achieve, their numbers, and approximately assigned areas. We’ll move onto Owen once we’re all...caught up.” Deign takes a seat and beams a smile, avoiding Bastian’s gaze. She’s so much more in her element when she thinks everything is going according to plan.
Zacharai nods and stands up, leaning forward with his fists on the glass table as he looks down at his notes. “After a thorough check once we reinitiated programming and effectively deleted the original override, we reactivated the Damascus a few days ago.”
He pauses for a moment and scans the room, a condescending smile on his lips. “We have eighty-one active squads. Seventy-five of those have been sent out to individually scout for the Exiled. We will find them, and whoever finds them first will relay the information back to us via their intranet. We have tapped into the communications devices used by the Damascus, and this is currently being monitored by Owen and his team. Even the recent incident has provided us with valuable information.”
Zach nods to everyone and sits down. Thoughts race through Bastian’s mind. That’s a lot of Damascus, able to scout a lot of land. It’s worse than he’d thought. Even though they probably haven’t figured out that the Exiled aren’t in one fixed spot yet...
“Owen, if you would?” Deign graciously extends her hand with a flourish to ask the young man to rise.
Still dressed in his lab coat, Owen pushes archaic correction lenses up on his nose and clears his throat. “At precisely 1:27 a.m. three days ago, one of our intranet sensors flared. There was nothing alarming, just that there had been a discovery of something and that it would be contained and reported on after the fact.” He peers down at the reader in his hands and frowns, flipping through a few pages to get to what he wants.
“Approximately thirty-eight minutes later, at 2:15 a.m., a distress beacon went off for all of four-tenths of a second. It’s been difficult to ascertain exactly how or why at this stage, but I do have a hypothesis.” He looks up and waits for Deign to give the go-ahead.
Bastian makes a mental note to thank Dom for interfering just enough that not much information was gleaned from the signals. Too little and it would be suspicious; too much and the Exiled were dead.
Deign nods and Owen sighs with relief. “We’re still working out many details, but it appears as though the squad thought it had the situation under control. It was designated as several humans, armed with weapons, and not flagged as a situation of merit.”
“We’re assuming these people were Exiled?” Zach interjects.
Owen nods, color rising in his cheeks. “Yes, sir.” He seems unsure of how to address the others in the room and clears his throat once again before continuing. “There is mention of an inconsequential person, which usually means someone unarmed.” He glances at Deign before focusing on the coffee table again.
“What caused the distress beacon? Do we know?” Harlow’s eyes go through blues and greens so fast Bastian can’t keep up, but she’s probably checking her database for what would elicit such a response.
“A flash of something bright and hot is all we have to go on. The moments before this exhibit no alarm, no idea that the squad wouldn’t emerge victorious. In order to obtain more detailed data on this encounter, we will have to retrieve the parts manually.”
Deign frowns. “With their interconnectivity, this should not have been an issue.”
Owen nods. “Yes. It appears they’re correcting that oversight now. Battle is no place for ego.”
“All of them were wiped out?” Harlow scans her own notes, adding some more as she waits for the answer.
“The lieutenant, his four henchmen, and his Hound. All six of them are off the grid.”
Deign stands up, signaling a relieved Owen to sit back down. “On the bright side, at least this means we found some of the Exiled. Beacon or no beacon, if we search the area they went missing in and beyond, we’ll eventually find something. Focus some groups there.”
Bastian schools his face to impassivity as he strides through the patrolled halls of Central. Some of Dom’s fiddling may have been a little too much on the intricate side, but at this moment, it’s helping them and holding up to scrutiny.
Almost at his quarters, he hears a decidedly metallic clang, soft but definitely there. He slows his steps just a fraction, and the Damascus stop a short distance from him, a few feet past his office door.
The lieutenant glances at him before speaking in the metallic, distant sound that passes for their voices. “Nehvin, Bastian. Director of Psionic Facilities and Programming. This is your place of work?” Its phrasing is off-beat, a slight tinny sound to the words.
“Yes.” He answers succinctly, knowing it’s not wise to engage them in any type of lengthy conversation.
“Excellent. Please proceed.” They step aside and continue on their way, a completely different whirr present than when Dom’s adrium engages.
Bastian doesn’t enter his offices until he can’t hear sounds of their passage anymore. At least they make enough noise to give forewarning of their arrival. Once inside, he reinforces and re-shields his entryway so many times, he loses count. There are few things that creep him out, and there are even fewer that scare him—and the Damascus do both.
“Bastian?” Dom’s voice is soft, obviously aware that the possibility of discovery just went up tenfold.
He turns around and motions to Dom not to speak, waving them over to his living quarters where he can reinforce the boundaries of his shielding and make sure there are no ears listening in. After a few minutes of tending to that, he feels safe enough to speak.
“The Damascus have been sent, not only to seek out the Exiled, but to leave a few squads here to guard us. As if I’m in danger.” He rolls his eyes. “You did a good job, Dom. I don’t think they got half of the information that was sent to them. Or, at least, I hope the Damascus didn’t get it, either.”
“I can’t guarantee it, but I tried to invert the signal and muddle its message. I don’t know too much about their communication channels. Everything I have comes from understanding why being connected to my own replicas almost broke me.” Dom’s appearance winks softly in and o
ut in the dimly lit rooms.
Bastian nods, trying not to let his frustration show. “The hard part of all of this is going to be figuring out what the hell I can do to help. I still can’t be sure where it is they’ve moved the device. For now, it’s out of my reach. I can want to find it, but unless Zach decides to tell us at the next meeting where it’s being held? My hope is worse than a snowball’s in hell.”
Dom takes a seat as well. “Do you think it’s possible to construct one of these devices using the blueprint your father left you?”
Bastian takes a deep breath, trying to keep himself from stressing too much. “I have no ability to access a kernel that’s been connected to the network at all. And I can’t just make one up. It has to be live.”
“Can’t we just take out a group of them, then?” Dom’s expression is about as sincere as he gets, and his eyes flicker brightly, almost like eagerness.
Bastian shakes his head. “You saw what happened to the scouting group. I know you’re strong, Dom, but you’re not that strong. There’s no way you can take on all six or even just five of the squad, and I wouldn’t be able to take out more than one. The odds of us actually being able to defeat a lieutenant and not damage his inner workings are not odds I want to calculate.”
“Then it seems we are at an impasse.” Dom’s tone is so matter-of-fact it infuriates Bastian to the point of losing his precious control.
“But that’s not good enough, Dom! We need to be able to stop this. We’ve come far too far to allow the Damascus to be what wipes us out.”
Dom eyes him briefly before looking down at his feet. “You cannot change what is. We can only hope to change what might be. Fact: The Damascus are active and scouting to root out the Exiled bases. Fact: Sai managed to save two of the team members and eliminate a lieutenant all by herself using an ability we don’t yet understand.”
He focuses directly on Bastian. “Do you agree these are facts?”
Bastian nods, curious to see where Dom is going with this.
“Fact: A pulse wave can disrupt the receptors of the Damascus and render them the equivalent to unconscious for a short period of time, perhaps a few hours. Fact: The original device is located somewhere beneath us in Central’s catacomb of laboratories. And our final fact: Even though the head of the lieutenant we already retrieved is likely too fried to be of any help, it still may afford Mathur the opportunity to examine it and figure out what it is we require from it.” Dom pauses for a second, focusing so intently on Bastian that he steps back slightly.
“So all of these are facts we can’t deny. Let’s focus on these and how to deal with them instead of hypothesizing doom.”
Bastian laughs. If only Dom could be there all the time. But since he Sai’s accident, it was no longer possible. He’d never realized before that the way Dom grounds him is a crutch, a dependence, perhaps even a weakness. “I see your point. Mathur is probably inspecting that damned head as we speak, and I’m guessing that I can try and listen more carefully to Zach’s boring chatter and likely find a clue to the real device’s whereabouts.”
Dom leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I find that a little far-fetched. The guy isn’t completely stupid, just a little self-obsessed. Give him some of the respect he appears to crave from you and you may have a lot more luck locating what we need than you would otherwise. Now...” He leans forward and grins. “I require something of you.”
“What?” Bastian watches his friend warily, unsure where this sudden understanding of humanity has come from.
“I need you to give me ideas on how I can help Sai harness this apparent new ability she seems to have discovered.” There’s an undertone to his voice now, this strange wistful note—almost sad, sort of obsessive.
“Work on some basic strengthening exercises. Rebuild the foundations I gave her. Reinforce her own shields to withstand the onslaughts she may inadvertently direct at herself. Not to forget that she’ll require meditation techniques.”
“Mediation?” Dom raises an eyebrow in disbelief.
“Yes.” Bastian leans back in his chair and stares at the ceiling for a moment. Everything would be easier if Sai were still here. Teaching someone by proxy is not the most fun prospect. “She needs to dig down deep and find that focus she has deep in her center. Get her to trigger her memory and see if she can contain it for a few seconds. She’ll need to practice this over and over again until she masters it. All I can think of to gain actual control of this ability instead of it turning into a wild and dangerous weapon is to first have complete control over her mind, then the level of her power, and then build up her stamina so she can use it more than once at a time.”
“I see.”
“I really hope you do, Dom. I really hope you do.” He pushes himself up from the chair and stretches. “If you don’t mind, I have a lot to work on. I know you’ll want to leave as soon as possible. Just let Mathur know they’re concentrating on the areas immediately surrounding where the fight took place. Be extra careful.”
Sai stares at all the tiny white lights refracting from the clock that sits over on her side table. Marlena had to duck out to grab something, which is good. The woman just won’t believe that Sai is fully capable of taking care of herself. After all, she’s helped to heal most of her injuries by herself. All she wants to do is get out of bed and go and see if Mason is okay.
It’s her fault, completely her fault that he’s injured, that so many people died. If only she’d realized sooner how to tap into whatever inner core of power she used. Even now, through all the healing, she still can’t grasp it again. Does it take a long time to fill back up? Does she need to have a fear of death like she was when she faced the last test of her final exam? There has to be something.
How are they so sure it was really her? Maybe it was a lightning strike. Electrical storms have happened occasionally. It’s entirely possible. Fragments of thoughts flit around in her mind, only partially coherent. Her head pounds and it’s difficult to focus. She needs to go, needs to figure out what the hell she did. Surely, if she can recreate it, if others can recreate it, they have a fighting chance.
She struggles to push herself back up, wincing slightly at the remaining pain in her ribs. Fine shrapnel from the body armor lodged itself in the wound, and it’s been a complete pain to try and remove them—literal pain.
Her legs react sluggishly as she swings them around the side of the bed, and she closes her eyes as she attempts to get rid of the slight dizziness plaguing her. Standing is far much more effort than she thought it would be, but after a few seconds, her body rights and adjusts itself, if a bit slowly.
Everything is more intense since she woke up, like she can feel the life coursing through things, people, even plants. She knows where people are, senses their immediate emotions, and can almost see, in her head, exactly what they’re doing. It’s disconcerting and somehow wondrous and damn hard to try and drown out. Reinforcing shields only does so much, and she’s not sure how to compartmentalize all of these things.
Sai almost makes it to the door before Mathur and Marlena walk through it.
“Damn it,” she mutters and crosses her arms defiantly.
Mathur raises an eyebrow and points a finger at her, resting it on her nose. “You are not supposed to be up and about. Rest, remember? Your grafts can still reject you if you do not bond well enough and get enough rest.”
Sai scowls. “I am fine. I’m better than fine—better than you. You really need to stop feeling guilt at every little thing, Mathur, it’s unbecoming.” She isn’t quite where that thought came from, nor exactly what she’s referring to, just that it’s an undeniable feeling she has that Mathur blames this entire war on himself. Not that it’s completely surprising. The old man seems to think everything started with Dom, but everything started with that device.
He glares at her. “Enough snooping with whatever newfangled powers you have managed to acquire by being far too intelligent for your own good.”
He gently nudges her shoulder and pushes her back toward the bed. “Sleep, Sai. Rest up for another twenty-four hours, because if you do not, I will have them confine you to the hospital wing instead of letting you stay in your own apartment.”
She sighs and gives up. One more day isn’t going to hurt too much. Maybe it’ll give her time to figure some things out, come up with a theory. The Damascus aren’t anywhere near them yet, and her range seems to have expanded considerably.
“We’re safe, for now. Don’t stop moving. I can...” She pauses, not sure she should say things out loud, unsure of how long this phenomenon is going to last. Maybe she’ll wake up in the morning and be back to normal.
“You can what?” Mathur has his back turned as she changes out of her clothes into one of her own nightshirts.
“I’m not sure yet.” She feels alone and scared of the things she made herself do. It’s logical and at the same time makes her shake in fear. What if she somehow recreates her awakening blast? No one would be safe. “I’m not sure of what I can and can’t do. Of what are remnants that will fade over time and what are permanent changes to my abilities. It’s like I’m open and everything is at my fingertips. I can feel, see, and sense everyone, everywhere.”
She climbs into bed, and he tucks the blanket around her. It feels safe, even if only for that instant.
“I’m scared,” she says softly, not wanting to admit it, but feeling the need to get it off her chest.
“I know you are.” He pets her head. “Do not worry. We will figure this out. Sleep long and sleep well. Tomorrow is a new day where we will search for the answers together.”
“Sai?”
She sits up quickly in bed and cringes at the pain in her chest. Damn it. Just when she thought it was almost healed. She sends a slight shot of power to the section and wills it to heal faster. Any little bit helps. “Yes, Ash?” she answers and realizes belatedly her voice sounds a lot like crunching gravel.