by K. T. Hanna
There’s a woman by herself, tinkering away on a reader as she makes her way up the steps. She’s the only chance he has to piggyback on. The effort and concentration bring a fringe of darkness around his mind, but he keeps it at bay.
“Coming through!” Two men dash down the long flight of stairs, taking them two at a time. There’s a split second to make a decision, and Dom choses to balance precariously on the railing as his body flickers desperately in and out of the color of space. If anyone looks directly at him, he’s a goner. But the focus isn’t on him; it’s on the men as they practically fly down the stairs, a wake of fear trailing after them. As soon as they pass, he fixes himself firmly on the steps again, falling back into the woman’s shadow as she makes her way up.
He’s never been more relieved than when he finally makes it to Bastian’s floor. Compared to the rest of the building, Bastian’s area is seriously understaffed. There are no patrols and very little video surveillance. It’s easy enough to camouflage when it’s not completely necessary.
As usual, the doors to Bastian’s quarters are closed. Dom waits, standing perfectly still while he whiles the time away with a series of projections about the outcome of this war. None of them are appealing, and for the first time, Dom has doubts. He really hopes that talking to Bastian will help and not just put his friend in danger.
He shakes his head, trying to get rid of the all too human doubts, unable to tell if they’re his own or if his darker side is trying to coax him to feed it. The more he thinks about the situation, the more dire it appears. Time passes slower than he’d like. His projections are grim and so dependent on Mathur finishing the domino repairs. With all the calculations running through his mind, Dom pushes himself away from the wall, suddenly determined to figure out how to get back to his father without Mele. He has the kernel, after all, and what better way to relieve Bastian of his woes than to defeat the GNW?
The door opening almost takes him by surprise, but he rolls through just in time, disturbing the air enough that Bastian stops in his tracks.
“You’ve been gone longer than usual.” Bastian turns around and leans against the now closed doors. “I was starting to get worried.”
From the way he holds his head, Dom knows he speaks the truth. There’s an almost defeated air around him, from the slump in his shoulders to the limp way his hair hangs over one eye. Bastian seems to have aged a couple of years. The boyish charm is gone now, replaced by a soft crease in his forehead, a worry line he shouldn’t have.
“No need to get worried.” Dom slowly regains his own form. It’s more difficult than usual with how long he’s been out of it. The picture in his head is tinged with memories of fighting in the sewers. He has to exert strength to make sure he appears normal and not enhanced.
Bastian is frowning at him. “What’s wrong with your morphing abilities? You’ve never had that much trouble regaining your facade before.”
Dom laughs softly. “It’s nothing, really. I’ve just spent several hours completely melded. I had an encounter which preoccupied me. I almost forgot what my humanoid form is like.” He tries to keep his tones even, to not show his concern about the power the alien properties in his body have over his human components now.
“Almost forgot?” Bastian raises an eyebrow. “You’ve used it for as long as I’ve known you.”
Dom shrugs and walks over to the desk, plopping himself into the chair in front of it. “I know. But since my communication channels were liberated from the other dominos, I have to say I’ve been feeling a little odd.”
“Odd?”
“Exactly.” Dom raises a hand and morphs it from human to weapon and back again. “There are these instincts I have, part of how and why I was made. Whenever I think of revenge or imagine the damage I could do, I experience this type of...glee. It’s like the parasite was contained and only gave me a tiny portion of its strength. Now, it wants to give me everything, as long as I let it do whatever it wants.” He looks up at Bastian, who still hasn’t sat down. “Killing. It makes me good at it. I was made for it, Bastian.”
“You evolved past it. I’ve never seen you like this. You’ve killed two people I know of recently, and you’re envisaging yourself as a weapon, not a person. What’s happening to you?”
“I don’t know.” Dom puts his heads in his hand with a sudden cold realization of how true those words are.
“We can figure it out, Dom. I’m sure Mathur can help you figure it out.” Bastian pats his friend on the shoulder as he walks past and lowers himself into his own seat.
“But he can’t.” Dom doesn’t take his head out of his hands. It feels oddly comforting even if it muffles his voice a little. “He can’t because I’m finally becoming what he created. He didn’t create a great bodyguard or a friend. He created a killing machine far more advanced than the Damascus.”
“You’re not a killing machine, Dom. You’re very much a person. What you started out as has little to no bearing on what you’re becoming. The only way it can use you is if you let it.”
“But you’re wrong. What I started out as has everything to do with what I’m becoming.” This time he raises his head from his hands and really looks at his friend, pushing with his mind, trying to show him what he means. “What I’m becoming scares the hell out of me. And what’s worse...”
Dom takes a deep breath, trying to fight the recurrence of that feeling of enjoyment every time he thinks about how much more volatile he’s become. “What’s worse is I think I like the power it lends me.”
Bastian leans forward, elbows on the table. “That’s a different story. Do you want to tell me why?”
“Why?” Dom leans back and stares at the ceiling, searching for the answer. “I’m not sure. I think it’s because feeling in control, feeling powerful—it’s addictive and I want more.”
“That’s the problem, then.”
“What is?”
Bastian laughs. “You’ve always been powerful. You possess an inhuman strength. But contrary to you, I’m fully aware of the control you’re able to exert over yourself. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”
Dom laughs. “Control is irrelevant. I’m fully aware I have it in me to control it. The thing is, this damned parasite is bloody persuasive.”
He watches his friend digest the information. Perhaps it was reckless to blurt it out so bluntly.
“You said you often find yourself not wanting to rein it in.” Bastian leans back in his chair and runs a hand through his hair. “When do you find yourself wanting to?”
“Nicely played, Bastian.” Dom can’t help but laugh. “She’s the only reason I have to maintain or lose my control.”
“For both?” Bastian raises his eyebrow. “She makes you want to both keep control and lose it?”
“I want her to see me as someone she can trust, and I want to hurt anyone and everyone who hurts her or tries to.” Dom pushes himself up from the chair. “It’s a strong feeling, almost overriding, and it carries over to the rest of the Exiled. I don’t care so much what they think about me, but I care what she thinks and that they survive for her.”
He paces over to the window and looks down at the ant-sized patrols below. “It’s difficult to reconcile these feelings.”
“But you came to tell me something anyway. Would it have anything to do with the huge beacon of ‘come kill us’ that went up yesterday?”
“Everything to do with that.” Dom keeps watching the activity far below and briefly pulls his attention away from himself, attempting a scan of his friend.
“How the hell did you make it here from there in that short time? The Damascus are still trying to find the fastest way to amass troops and send them out.”
“I flogged Mele a bit. And when I say flogged...” Dom turns away from the window and leans against it, smoothing over his features so his irritation doesn’t show. Bastian is heavily shielding himself. “She needs to recharge, so I’ll be here a few days. Let’s hope nothi
ng too dire needs my attention.”
Bastian is quiet for a moment. “What am I supposed to do about the beacon? They know the general vicinity. The Exiled have, at most, three days to scatter from their current locations.”
“They’ve already started moving. Mathur isn’t stupid enough to stay where they are. Although he’s slightly preoccupied with rebuilding his pet project.”
“You say that as if it leaves a bad taste in your mouth.”
Dom shrugs. “It does sometimes. I’m not sure he actually ever thought my creation through. It wasn’t an I will do this because it will make a better world. It was an I’ll do this simply because I can. Do you understand what that’s like, Bastian?”
His friend shakes his head. “No.”
“I was never meant to be anyone’s friend. I was never meant to be anyone’s protector. And I was certainly never meant to have these feelings that have been cluttering up everything since I came to at the accident site.” This self-preservation instinct, this strange annoyance of attachment he has to his human life, makes it difficult to confine his thoughts to where they’re most needed.
Bastian leans over and rests a hand on Dom’s shoulder. “Do you think something’s wrong with you?”
“Not technically, which probably doesn’t help.” Dom moves out from under the personal touch, pushing his friend’s hand away irritably. “I think I’m finally functioning within the parameters Mathur originally intended. I believe the weapon in me is emerging, and I don’t think he had a clue how involved it would be.”
“It’s really not like you to be scared. You’re sure there’s not a crossed something or other somewhere?”
“I don’t have wires, remember? I’m the improvement over the Damascus.” He pauses for a second, calming the anger he can feel rising again. “Speaking of which, I took out a couple of lieutenants a little while ago.”
Bastian takes a step back and crosses his arms. “You took out two of them? Lieutenants? With kernels intact?”
Dom shrugs. “Only one was a true lieutenant, so only one kernel. A couple is doable. I could probably take out an entire patrol if it got down to it.”
“And entire patrol?” A look of admiration crosses Bastian’s face, but it’s gone with Dom’s next words.
“I didn’t say how intact I’d be afterward.”
Bastian wakes up to a loud pounding on his door, and for a moment he feels disoriented. He scans the room for telltale signs of Dom’s presence as he pulls his robe on and sighs with relief when he realizes his friend isn’t there and hasn’t left any unusual conversation pieces lying around. The lining on the inside of his pocket hides a tiny pouch of Shine, just in case it’s an emergency. He refuses to admit things might be getting beyond his control just because he keeps having to dose more for the same effect.
The door is shaking under the pounding as he nears it.
“Give me a moment.”
The noise subsides, and he thinks it better to not stand in front of it as he opens it. He fingers the silvery-white substance and frowns for a second, knowing full well Zach is the only human psionic outside of those doors.
If the doors were capable of slamming open, they would have. As it is, they’re only capable of a long inward swing. Not even a groan emanates from their hinges as a patrol of Damascus precede Zach into the room.
“There’d better be a good explanation for this, Zach.” Bastian deliberately relaxes his shoulders and puts on an expression of exasperated disdain.
“We’re checking on everyone.”
On closer inspection, his childhood companion’s face is harried. He looks pale and worried, circles under his eyes, and his normally well-manicured nails are rough and surrounded by hangnails. There’s a slight shake to his hands. Whether it’s out of fear or exhaustion, Bastian can’t tell, but he steps aside and beckons Zach to sit.
“Thanks.” Zach takes the seat, his eyes darting back and forth between Bastian and the Damascus.
It’s not the first time Bastian has wished Zach possessed the ability to speak into other’s minds. His expressions are always so hard to read. There are times when he could almost swear Zach is using his brain cells and coming to his senses about a lot of things. Right now seems like one of them. Either that or he’s acting.
Bastian fishes a water out from the refrigerator on one side of his desk and takes the chance, while pouring it, to scour for any untoward signs. Zach’s reactions seem...too extreme, even for him. Nothing flares his senses, though, and he pushes the glass over and watches Zach gulp it down before some color returns to the man’s cheeks.
“What are you checking on people about?”
“One of the lieutenants was found just below the city a few hours ago. His operating center was ripped open. One of his arms was ripped off. Gruesome.” Zach’s voice is far more even than it should be, given his shaken appearance.
Bastian raises an eyebrow, debating a surreptitious dose of Shine. “Really?”
Zach nods and draws a shaky breath. “Not only that, he had an aid with him—a modified soldier. He was in worse shape and put out of commission. Both of them. We can’t tell by how many assailants, but they had to be strong.”
“Both of them?” Bastian mutters, mulling over the facts in his mind. Dom did well. “Two Damascus and no evidence of what group did this?”
“We’re assuming it has to be the Exiled. Why on earth would anyone else try to interfere with our plans to flush them out? It’s not like Austrasia or Eussia care.” Zach’s laugh wheezes out.
“Valid point there,” Bastian murmurs, still deep in thought. Dom didn’t leave behind any type of evidence to link him to the crime. That’s really the most important piece of information to come out of the whole situation. Bastian smiles softly before speaking. “And you thought I might be in danger?”
“Perhaps.” Zach stands up, his entire body more steady than it was when he entered the room. “It’s more that I’ve been checking on everyone, regardless of the time. Realistically, it could have been an inside job.”
“Inside job?” Bastian raises an eyebrow in disbelief and leans against his desk. “Who on earth would do that? Much less how?”
Zach shakes his head and sighs, the frail countenance suddenly gone, leaving the business man in his place. “I have no idea, but I had to make sure everyone was safe and accounted for. You understand, I hope?”
“Completely.” Bastian smiles, suddenly wishing he’d dosed Shine as soon as the knock on the door began. This whole meeting sits uncomfortably with him. “You checked on Deign first, of course?”
“Of course.” There’s only a trace of a shy smile evident on Zach’s face before he conceals it with a knowing smirk. “Just make sure to let us know if you notice anything at all.” He bows his head for a moment before moving closer and lowering his voice. “You were always good with the mind stuff—less brute force than me, more subtle. Anything, Bastian. This shouldn’t have been able to happen.”
Bastian nods and resists the urge to jump back from the almost contact abruptly. “I understand.” He answers in just as low a voice, fairly certain the Damascus can hear every word.
It’s a non-committal answer, but it seems to be enough for Zach, who smiles before turning and leaving Bastian’s quarters.
Bastian stands at his desk with the doors still open for a long time, wondering if Zach has any inkling at all. If it was perhaps all a ruse to see if he could figure out if Bastian was the traitor. It could be. It could also be that Zach has hidden away his true intelligence for the past twenty years, only to now reveal himself to be a mastermind.
With a chuckle, Bastian walks to his doors, choosing to swing them shut manually instead of using his mind. A mastermind, Zach has never been, but he is observant. Even if his old friend doesn’t realize it, there’s something in his subconscious mind that led him to this room tonight. All Bastian has to figure out is if it’s dangerous enough for him to run sooner rather than later.
> Moments later, Dom pushes into the dojo through the hidden side-door, almost giving Bastian a heart attack. Recovering quickly, he motions his friend to be silent and come into his quarters. He’d been reluctant to use that entrance himself recently since they upped security in the lab tunnels, but if Dom times it right, it’s probably the better option. “You cut that close, Dom.”
Dom shrugs. “I could hear him when I arrived, so I waited. It’s odd though...”
“What is?”
“I don’t remember feeling like this, tapping into my speed and camouflaging abilities. It’s like I woke from some dream where I was hampered and not myself. I made it through that passage this time, even with the heightened security. The more I try to work at it, the easier it is to control, I hope?” There are a few seconds of silence before Dom shakes his head and looks back at Bastian. “Anyway, I heard everything he said. I should have tidied up better, but I was in a crunch for time. I figured it would take them a while to find the scraps where I left them.”
“It did, just not long enough.” Bastian sighs and seats himself in his favorite recliner. “Everything would have been a whole lot easier if the kernel wasn’t such an obvious thing. I’m glad you knew to deactivate it without contaminating it. Most people who stole one would have been caught by now.”
Dom nods. “I have other news, Bastian. It’s not good.”
Bastian laughs and runs a hand through his hair. “And today has been a barrel of good news?”
Dom shakes his head. “No, I’m being serious. It’s early, so I took the chance to go back to the labs. I think the Damascus are masking their signals somehow. Making it harder to locate them without a direct transponder. If I don’t get the kernel back to them in one piece soon, the Exiled are going to have no hope in hell of surviving anything.”
“You’re not about to say, ‘but wait, there’s more,’ are you?”