by K. T. Hanna
“Funny you should say that.”
Bastian groans, but Dom isn’t smiling. His body shifts subtly, a faint wave running over his form.
“They’ve adapted their own sensors. From what I overheard, it seems they’ve realized there’s adrium cloaking on the Mobiles. They’re attempting to modify their own programming to compensate for the camouflaging effect. Now, if it were dominos they had to worry about, this wouldn’t be a problem. We’re small and fast, at least in comparison to them. However, when it comes to the Mobiles...”
Bastian blinks back the sudden rage that threatens to engulf him. “They’ll be sitting ducks.”
“Sitting ducks?” Dom frowns, sort of, in a face scrunching way. “I suppose the analogy works.” He shrugs and looks at Bastian expectantly.
“I don’t have a plan, Dom. I seriously don’t know what to do.”
“I’ll warn them. It’s almost dawn. I need another thirteen hours for Mele to be back at good strength, and then I can push her to her limits. Letting her recharge is still quicker than it would be if I left now.” He glances around and frowns. “It’s not safe for me here?”
Bastian shrugs, his coat suddenly a world more weight than he’s used to. “I’m not certain. They didn’t seem to notice you arrived toward the end of their visit here, so I’m thinking they might not be able to tell you’re here at all. You are, after all, on a different frequency, correct?”
Dom nods, shimmering briefly in what Bastian hopes is for effect.
“Fine, then. Wait the day out here. Just make sure you stay in my quarters. They’re heavily shielded, enough that it should protect you, just in case.”
“You have a busy day?”
Bastian smiles. It feels good to have his friend here, calming in a way, even if he wishes it were under better circumstances. “Busy in a way, but not in the way I wish. I have to try and keep the more radical idiots of this governing entity at bay. I have a morning and an afternoon meeting, as well as two classes to teach.”
Dom nods. “I’ll use your guest room again and not leave a trace of myself.”
“Good.” Bastian watches Dom walk away and disappear behind one of the dividers. He has an uneasy feeling. Not about Dom, but about the situation. Everything is coming to a head and suddenly the world feels far too small for comfort.
“You can’t mean that.” Markus smacks his hand down on the table as he stands up, glaring around at the rest of the board. “You’re telling me they came into our territory, right under our noses, and yoinked a couple of these bots out from under us?”
“I wouldn’t call them bots.” Owen pushes his glasses up, even though they never slipped in the first place. It’s a nervous gesture that makes Bastian almost feel sorry for the poor guy.
Markus glares at him, but his eyebrows sag at the last moment, making him look more tired than angry. “A lieutenant, Zach. You said they got a lieutenant?” His voice is quieter, more controlled this time.
Zach nods and Markus folds into his chair, face suddenly ashen-white. “How many of them were there? Do you know yet?”
“We’re not sure, but we think a small group. They cleaned up after themselves very well.”
For a few moments, complete silence reigns as the reality hits home that their invincible soldiers had been defeated twice in short order.
“We’re dead. We’re all dead,” Markus whispers, just in time for Deign to walk in, fashionably late as usual.
Bastian hides his sigh and leans back to watch the show. Sometimes Markus doesn’t know when to shut up.
“Dead?” Deign raises an eyebrow as she heads to her seat. “I think that’s a slight exaggeration. One of the lieutenants is defunct. That’s all. A lieutenant and a soldier. We’ve placed the units on higher alert. And I do believe—” she glances toward Owen, who nods nervously “—we’ve succeeded in giving the entire Damascus formation a way to be instantly aware when one of them might require aid. I’m sure Owen can explain it to us.”
Bastian watches as the young man grimaces while standing up. His lab coat is far too large for him, dwarfing his presence into the laughable.
Owen has to open his mouth twice before words come out. “We’ve linked them together in the same way we had the dominos linked before their malfunction. Due, however, to the different elements, this infrastructure communication should work a lot better. Damascus already have an inherent ability to network to each other. This just made it easier to tighten the connection.”
He sits down, owlish eyes blinking rapidly from behind his coke-bottle lenses.
“Exactly.” Deign claps her hands, startling everyone at the table into looking directly at her. “This isn’t the time for complacency, Bastian!”
He raises a hand to his mouth as if suppressing a yawn. The action helps dull the slight panic at her summons. If he’d reacted, it might have appeared suspicious. “Yes?”
“How is the school coming? Do you have the students picked out?”
Bastian nods. “You’ll want Nimue and Sai’s other two classmates together. They know her—at least, they know her better than any of us do. Every little bit helps.” He knew it would never be the case. Sai and Nimue seemed to have a much stronger friendship than he’d anticipated.
“The dominos?”
Bastian shrugs at Deign’s question, pushes down on the unease trying nauseate him, and feigns boredom. “Not my area of expertise. Davies was much more in tune with them, and well...” He shrugs. “I wouldn’t know how to track them if my life depended on it. They’re strong, hard to reach. My psionic skill set doesn’t lie in that direction.”
Deign clucks her tongue, and for a moment her face twists viciously. Gone almost as quickly as it arrived, she smiles condescendingly. “Just where does it...” She pauses and her face colors red. After all, she’s been the one to send Bastian on several of his assassination missions.
Owen raises a hand tentatively, barely at half-mast. Or perhaps it is up all the way and just appears diminished because of his smaller stature.
Deign nods at him, crosses her arms, and taps her foot impatiently.
“I’ve been working on an adjustment at the request of the fifth lieutenant of the Damascus patrols. He was the closest to the group that got decimated out in the desert not long ago. I’m basically adjusting their sensors.”
“Why?” Markus leans forward.
“He...they...” Owen frowns as he tries to explain. “You have to understand that, when one speaks, it’s known by every other lieutenant and filtered down to their subordinates. So it’s sort of like speaking to a hive mind. It’s not the most advanced system, but since there appears no way to break down this depth of communication, they’re rather formidable in how quickly they can react to any given situation.”
“Interesting.” Markus leans back in his chair, arms crossed, and glances around the room. No one, including Bastian, meets his gaze.
Owen’s shoulders rise a little, and he seems more at ease now he’s explained his difficulty defining who he’s spoken to. “They requested I assist them in altering their perception filters. It’s an optical adjustment they can’t perform themselves. Apparently when that first group died, they sent out a partial signal—a recognition, as it were. It appears that the Exiled are utilizing some form of adrium camouflage, probably similar to our own netting. The adjustments I made earlier today allows for them to compensate and should at least enable them to see the shimmer of movement, if not the actual vehicle. It will make them easier to locate, especially now we have a narrower search field after that massive energy release two days ago.”
“I suppose it makes sense that they’d be hiding from us,” Harlow murmurs, almost like she’s talking to herself. She doesn’t look up, though. Her eyes are focused on her implants, and her hands fly over her portable station in front of her.
Owen nods, pushing his glasses back up his nose as they slide down.
Deign laughs, her mood noticeably better. “Fantastic
work, Owen. You might even have just proved yourself worthy of your newly acquired position.” She stands, smoothes down her shirt, and clears her throat. “With that in mind, we should launch a full-scale assault in a few days. As I understand, not all of the modifications have been completed yet, Owen?”
He shakes his head. “But they will be done soon. I have twelve people working on it.”
Deign nods and glances down at her reader. “We also have the research lab working on assembling or attempting to reassemble several more units of Damascus, correct?”
A collective gasp goes up from everyone in the room, apart from Owen and Bastian.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t look at me like that. If we can figure out how to assemble them, then perhaps we can correct whatever oversight we made in the initial construction.” She glances down at her notes once again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It’s one of the few nervous tells she has that Bastian is aware of. “I do believe we’re as prepared as we’re going to be. I’ll gather you all here again at the same time tomorrow to go over the progress and exact timing. We’re going to be very busy in a few days. Rest while you can.”
She waves them away, and Bastian pushes himself out of his chair. It’s an effort to keep his mind free of the panic.
“Bastian.” Deign’s voice is soft. “Will you stay a moment?”
He forces himself to stop and turn around to face her. “Of course.”
“You have a school board meeting this afternoon, correct?”
He nods.
“I need you to make sure everyone is aware things are about to get...involved. Our students are our future, and I want them aware of that. I need you to assemble the best two groups you have. Ones who might be able to aid out there in the field or here in the city if need be. You’ve got the crème of our youth in those classes—the strongest, the survivors. If anyone can help make sure this runs smoothly, I think they can.” The wrinkles around her eyes say she’s worried.
Bastian pries her fingers from around his hand, unaware of just when they became attached, and is extremely glad he’s wearing gloves so as to avoid skin contact. “I’ll be blunt, Deign. There is nothing my students can do that the people already under your command can’t. Half of them came from my school. Most of them are older than me. If fully trained grown men and women can’t help us when the Damascus turn—and mark my words, they will turn—then there is no hope for us. My students are not the miracle you’re seeking.”
“If they can get to the switch, everything will be fine.” Her eyes are full of assurance, of complete confidence that this is the right path, even if her back is a little too rigid.
Bastian feels cold to the core at the look she gives him. “You want me to give them a signal to flip the switch should it come to that?”
Deign nods. “It’d be better if you were the one. They’ll have to force themselves through, but you’ll have the passwords.”
Bastian nods and listens as she hands over his psionically imprinted key and tells him everything he needs to know.
Bastian closes the door to his office tightly behind him, snapping his wards closed as they seal. He reaches out with his mind and locates Dom, right where he thought he’d be. It’s almost nightfall, almost time for his friend to go. If they’d had a plan, this would be it falling apart. He’d never expected Deign to come up with so many different ways to obliterate the people who should be taking care of what’s left of their world. The United Conglomerate deserves so much better than the GNW.
“You’re agitated.” Dom’s voice is soft, and yet Bastian almost jumps out of his skin, even though he knew he was there.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” he mutters, trying to stop his hands from shaking, his body from shaking.
“I didn’t. You already scanned for me. You were completely aware I was here. What’s the problem?” Dom’s eyes flicker slightly in the dim light, concern shading them.
Bastian sighs, broken thoughts flitting around in his Shine-filled head. “They’ll be ready to launch their offensive inside of a week. From the way Deign spoke, maybe less.”
Dom blinks. “That’s not enough time for Mathur to get the device working. It’s not enough time for anything. Barely enough time for me to warn them.”
“I know and I’m sorry, but there was nothing I could do. I’m not part of the science division, so sadly, I’m not in on everything I need to know. Owen has almost readjusted the optical sensors of the Damascus to detect the adrium camouflage wavelength. Everything is already in motion!”
Bastian pauses and gulps in some air, aware that he’s dangerously close to losing it. When he speaks, his usual control is back, though tenuously. “He’s increased the potency behind their communications channels, in the same vein as the dominos, but because of their different make-up, he’s sure they’ll withstand it without breaking down.”
A strange ripple crosses Dom’s face. “I have to get back.”
“Has it been long enough to recharge yet?”
Dom closes his eyes briefly. “By the time I get out there, it’ll have to do.”
“Warn them. Do whatever you can to prepare. I’ll work on things from this end.”
Dom’s form stabilizes. “Do you think...maybe you could find this core Sai talks about, too?”
Bastian blinks at him. That could be his answer. Find his core, obliterate everything, and know his sacrifice meant something. Sai would never forgive him for taking that many innocent lives. He almost laughs, but shakes his head instead, staving off the hysteria. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to make time to try. But I have so much to do.”
“What else can you possibly do, Bastian?”
Bastian smiles grimly and pushes down on the disorientation threatening to sweep over him. “She gave me the codes today, the psionic access to the switch. If all else fails, when people are sufficiently distracted—and they will be—I’ll figure out how to activate the switch myself.”
“And if they catch you? Can’t I do this?”
“You can’t. The code won’t work with your imprint. It’s clued to mine.” Bastian bites down on the snake of fear that winds its way through his gut.
“This could be a trap, Bastian.” Dom’s tone is soft, with a strange hint for the hybrid. It sounds oddly like fear.
Bastian smiles. “Even if it is, I’ll flip the switch and escape. Don’t worry.” He wonders if the words sound as resigned as he feels.
Dom looks at Bastian for a long moment, his eyes flickering, and he hesitates twice before speaking. “I will be back here in seven days, specifically to help you escape. Don’t do anything before I can get you out of here.”
Bastian smiles, unable to hide his relief, even if it’s just that his friend is still himself, still cares this much. “I won’t do it without you.” He wonders if Dom can still detect lies. “Thank you. Now go.”
Dom frowns and suddenly hugs Bastian so tightly his lungs whoosh the last of his breath out.
“Don’t be stupid. Wait for me.” And then Dom turns and exits out the passage leading from the dojo section of the office.
Bastian watches the door for a long time after it closes behind his friend, fighting the sinking feeling in his stomach that something is going to go horribly wrong.
Sai stands in the loading bay, her mind blank, staring at her hands. There’s nothing she can do anymore. People will die; the Exiled will die. There’s just no way for her to manage her abilities and teach everyone else to do the same. It’s the only thought in her head as Dom pulls into the bay in Mele.
The expression on his face does little to alleviate her inner turmoil. “You have bad news.” Even to her own ears, the tone of her voice falls flat. She gives herself a little shake, determined to pull herself out of the funk she’s fallen into the last few days.
He glances at her, his upper lip clenched between his teeth in an overly human gesture he seems unconscious of. “You’re not just worried about
what news I bear—which, by the way, is worse than you think, but perhaps better than it could be. What’s on your mind? You’re not usually this...” He pauses, searching for the word. “Not usually this apathetic.”
Sai feels herself blush with embarrassment at the accurate description. “It’s just been a bad few days.” She takes a breath and falls into step with him, hesitating a moment before touching his hand. Their fingers link lightly, feather-soft, but as she speaks, her grip tightens. “We didn’t make it out to the final nomad settlement in time—they’re gone. That’s the second one. Twelve hundred people. That’s a lot of people, Dom. Not captured, not taken away—just gone. All dead.”
Dom clenches his jaw, and a ripple of color passes through him, so brief she’d have missed it if she wasn’t paying attention, but it shows how tightly he’s keeping himself under control. That and how hard he squeezes her fingers in return. “And yourself? Aishke? Mathur?”
“Mathur has almost finished making adjustments. Just several more of your siblings to go and he’ll be done with the lot of them. They’ve been training, drilling, helping, and listening to James’ instructions. Sometimes they’re so silent you don’t know they’re there.” They’re not like you, she wants to add, but thinks it better not to. Dom isn’t quite being himself. There’s a subtle undercurrent warring beneath his skin, almost like it’s trying to break free. Her grip of his hand shifts, more about grounding him than anchoring her.
He nods and glances at a packet he carries in his free hand. “I’ve informed Mathur we’re on our way to the observation deck. People should be convened by the time we get there. We only have a few minutes, and you’ve yet to tell me about yourself and Aishke.”
Sai feels cold all of a sudden and hugs her chest with one arm as they walk. If she lets go, there’s a chance she might not reel him back to himself. “I’m as well as can be expected. There aren’t many of us with enough initial power to even make training with the technique I’ve been developing worthwhile. Iria is doing better than I expected. Both Mason and James are coming along in leaps and bounds. And Aishke...” She can’t bring herself to say it. The reality hurts far too much.