by K. M. Ruiz
Pulling out of Genevieve’s mind, Samantha blinked open her eyes, staring hard at the gray wall of the shuttle’s interior to ground herself as she untangled her mind from the merge. Something warm slid down her wrist, and she looked down to see that Kristen’s nails had cut into her skin, leaving crimson crescent-moon marks across the ridge of her tendon. She flexed her hand, watching the play of muscle beneath her skin.
“I’m not your anchor,” Samantha said as she wiped the blood away on her uniform.
“Of course not,” Kristen replied calmly, sanity creeping into the tone of her voice, cutting through the gleam of her eyes. They both knew this was a temporary state. “Mine left.”
“Lucas isn’t coming back.”
Kristen’s smile tempered itself into a smirk as she lifted bloody fingers to wipe them over Samantha’s throat before the older girl could stop her.
“So little faith, Sammy-girl.”
Samantha reached out and slammed her sister’s head against the cradle of her seat. “Keep your hands and mind to yourself.”
Kristen laughed low in her throat. “Never gonna happen. Can’t happen. Won’t.”
Samantha’s mouth curled up in disgust as she pulled back. “I don’t know why Nathan hasn’t killed you yet.”
“For reasons exactly like this.” Kristen licked her lips and shrugged one shoulder. “He still needs me. Same as he needs you.”
“Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll leave you behind when we ship out to Mars.”
A cheerful “Maybe” was Kristen’s opinion on that as her mind evened out some. With the death of all those humans and Strykers on the ground, Kristen was gaining back some shred of mental balance.
In the depths of Kristen’s twisted mind, at the bottom where her damaged power stemmed from, the psi link that Lucas had buried in her insanity years ago when she was just a toddler switched on at the barest trace of sanity.
Hello, Kris. Lucas’s telepathic power flowed through the swirling madness that was, for a brief moment, dimmed. Controlled. How was dinner?
Kristen stared at her sister until Samantha looked away, the contempt between them an emotion that Kristen didn’t bother to brush aside.
Delicious.
Why don’t you tell me all about it?
On the flight back to London, high in the atmosphere, Kristen did exactly that.
PART FOUR
ALLIANCE
SESSION DATE: 2128.09.22
LOCATION: Institute of Psionics Research
CLEARANCE ID: Dr. Amy Bennett
SUBJECT: 2581
FILE NUMBER: 879
“I want to go home,” the girl says, sounding tired and hoarse, sitting slumped in the same seat as before. She is thinner than she was at the beginning, drawn brittle by time that is running out.
“You know you can leave if you just tell us what we want to know,” the doctor says.
“You want a second chance on Mars.” The girl wrinkles her small nose at the doctor and shakes her head. “But you should want Earth.”
“I think you should tell us how to stop this war.”
Aisling blinks at her slowly, bleached-out violet eyes set in a hollow face. “I’m tired. I want to sleep.”
“Do you know,” the doctor says, voice gone ragged and harsh, “how many countries have been lost to this madness?”
“Yes,” Aisling says softly as she picks at the electrodes on the back of one hand, the machines spiking on a high-pitched whine. “I saw them all die. But don’t worry, Threnody. It’s going to be okay in the end.”
[THIRTEEN]
AUGUST 2379
BUFFALO, USA
Buffalo was where the survivors fled during and after the Border Wars. It was where their descendants remained, locked into underground bunkers and sealed city towers.
In the local parlance, it was a sprawl as opposed to a slum, but it had its borders, it had its limits. Pocketed between the deadzones of the Midwest and the inner areas of the East Coast, with a little slice of toxic water named Lake Erie on one side, Buffalo was sanctuary and hell all in one.
City towers stabbed into the sky in the northeast, a shrewdly built wall between the masses and the closely guarded SkyFarms. A detoxification plant hugged the shores of Lake Erie, the make of it different from that of the combo-detox plants that were built into ocean waters. No desalination was needed here, but the price of clean water, which was worth dying for some days, was still high.
Overhead, shuttles winged through the sky to lock in on anchor docks jutting away from the city towers, never settling to the ground. Maglev train platforms spiked away from Buffalo in half a dozen different directions, turning the city into a distorted fat insect when seen from above. The ancient train tracks made of iron and wood from before the Border Wars were no good anymore. They were either completely broken or ran straight through deadzones with radiation levels still high enough that no amount of shielding attached to the maglev trains could block it.
In the sprawl of Buffalo, people got around by foot more than by car or bus, using underground tunnels before risking the open air. The electrical grid that powered everyone’s lives only had so much to spare for the ground vehicles that kept humanity lurching forward from one day to the next. Acid storms tended to eat through even the best-protected wires, and the salvaged steel homes of unregistered humans got lower priority than transportation. First priority went to the SkyFarms, second to the city towers of the registered humans. The government controlled the hierarchy in Buffalo, but people still fell through the cracks, just as they did everywhere else in the world.
It was into one of those cracks that Lucas teleported them.
The small warehouse at the city limits was empty when they arrived. The teleport sent all but Lucas sprawling to the ground, the Strykers still shaky on their legs after illegal brain surgery. Lucas was used to the pain that came from a teleport, which bridged the distance between continents. That didn’t mean pushing himself like this was a good thing. Sniffing up blood, ignoring the throbbing pain right behind his eyes, Lucas squinted through the dust that drifted in and out of sunbeams pouring through a line of windows on one side of the warehouse. It was like an oven inside these four walls, the environmental systems off and the air almost too thick to breathe.
“Security feed?” Threnody gasped out as she shoved herself to her hands and knees.
“Not here,” Lucas said as sweat dripped down his face, soaking into the collar of his shirt. “The scavengers I deal with don’t like the government watching their every move. This place is off the government’s grid, but the scavengers will know we’ve arrived.”
“Scavengers,” Quinton said, the only one who seemed unbothered by the heat in the warehouse. “Those crazy bastards who dig around in the deadzones without protection? Tell me you’re joking.”
“I don’t joke. About anything.”
Lucas moved away from the Strykers, who were picking themselves off the ground. He activated the control panel by the warehouse door, tapping out a code that didn’t require biometrics for input. With a heavy grinding sound the door unlocked and a long line of light appeared at its bottom. The door jacked itself up slowly, the sound grating on their ears. It stopped at head height for Lucas. A breeze rolled into the warehouse, hot and heavy, clearing out the stagnant air.
Walking into the afternoon sunlight, Lucas spun around in a slow circle, taking in any changes since his last visit. He still had his dark glasses on, his black clothes soaking up the sunlight uncomfortably. More sweat beaded on his skin, streaking through dirt as it slid down his face and arms. He lifted a hand and offered up a mock salute at the nearest security feed monitoring the area.
You coming? he sent across the mental grid, skirting down the psi link he’d implanted in that obnoxious woman’s mind years ago, knowing she was keeping a lookout for them.
Your scrawny ass needs more weight on its bones, that raw voice sent back.
You going to put it there?<
br />
The laugh echoed down to him; amused, revolted. You psions are too expensive to feed. Who’re the riders?
Needed. Just get down here.
He broke contact, turning to watch the Strykers stumble out of the warehouse. They still had that shocky look to them, a fear at the back of their eyes that came from being unleashed from the government. The freedom might have been a lie, but it was heady.
Except they weren’t free of Lucas. He still had his power threaded through their minds. He’d know their intentions before they even thought them all the way through, and their powers were his until he decided otherwise.
“Where are we?” Threnody said.
“Buffalo,” Lucas replied. “New York.”
In sync, all four Strykers looked north toward the city that they couldn’t see, not behind jagged teeth of buildings and towers and hazy pollution. Toronto was too far away to be anything but a dream, and they were too smart to believe in something so out of reach.
Jason grimaced and reached up to touch the back of his neck where the quick-heal patch had yet to dissolve. “Why?”
“We made a bargain, remember? You help me do what needs to be done and you’ll have your freedom.” Lucas tucked his hands into his back pockets and bent backward some. His spine cracked softly as he stretched. “You can have Aisling’s word on it, since none of you trust mine.”
“You’re going to have to introduce us to that girl someday,” Kerr said in exasperation.
Lucas pointedly ignored them as he wandered back over to the side of the warehouse, sitting down on the dirty and cracked ground with his back against the building. “We’ve got a while to wait. Get comfortable.”
Three of them would have argued, except Threnody obeyed Lucas’s order with a faint shrug, sitting down on the ground with at least a meter’s space between the two. Quinton joined her after a moment, with Kerr and Jason following their lead. Kerr helped Jason sit down, the telekinetic still pale in the face. The initial drugs that the doctor had pumped into him for surgery had long ago worn off, and Jason’s shields prevented Lucas from manipulating the pain. It hurt Jason to move his head and neck, hurt to walk. He needed more than a quick-heal patch over sealant, and Kerr knew it, could feel it through their bond.
Lucas, Kerr said. Let me help him.
He was surprised, to say the least, when he felt the shift of that formidable telepathic strength in his mind, opening up one of Kerr’s channels for use. Telepathy flooded through his mind, a rush that Kerr tried desperately not to crave as he sent his power down the bond he shared with Jason. It took a little more effort than he would have liked, but Kerr tricked Jason’s mind into ignoring some of the pain. Jason didn’t say thank you, just squeezed Kerr’s arm. It meant the same thing.
Lucas blocked Kerr’s power again.
“Back in London with the quads,” Threnody said after the silence became too much, “we all know how they found us. The government has that same facial recognition software here. You can keep us off the mental grid, but they’ll still be able to find us if you don’t give us what keeps you hidden as well.”
Lucas smiled a little at the accusatory tone in her voice. “Smart woman. Still not smart enough to realize that I needed that little scene at Camden Market.”
“You like pissing Nathan off that much?” Quinton asked, voice hard. “Use someone else next time you want to get his attention.”
“I’ve got you four. I don’t need anyone else just yet.” Lucas stretched out his long legs and tilted his head back. “The scavengers will bring the supplies that I need.”
He was right.
They heard the cars before they saw them, the harsh growl of engines a distant buzz that grew. The Strykers were the only ones to get to their feet, reaching for weapons they no longer had and powers that were no longer readily available to them. Lucas remained where he was as two rusted and dented SUVs rounded a nearby building, patched tires kicking up dust as they braked to a halt. The handful of men and women who got out were heavily armed. The last person out ordered everyone to remain by the SUVs while she approached the psions.
The middle-aged black woman had short, graying hair and wore her street armor like a second skin. Illegal cybernetics showed in the lines of her hands where sharp metal cut through synthskin provided for other’s sensibilities, not her own. She carried a military-grade rifle on one shoulder like an extension of her arm, the weapon clean and well cared for; illegal in civilian hands, but scavengers didn’t care about laws.
“Hangman comin’ down from the gallows,” she said in a rough voice around an unfriendly smile. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t shoot your ass.”
“Because I always make you miss,” Lucas said as he finally got to his feet. “Matron.”
“Lucas.” Her dark eyes settled pointedly on the other four. “They ain’t unregistered. I don’t like surprises.”
“How is this a surprise when I told you five years ago what was going to happen?” Lucas offered up a slick smile. “Trust me, Matron. When have I ever not come through?”
“You want that answer in bullet points?”
Lucas laughed as he reached out to clasp her hand, an easy greeting between the two that was still tempered by wariness on Matron’s part. The woman wasn’t stupid. She hadn’t lived this long by ignoring threats, despite Lucas’s promises. She knew exactly who and what Lucas was, even if almost no one else in her scavenger group did. Telepathy could work wonders on the human mind.
“I’ve got kits in the vehicles,” Matron said, looking past Lucas at the four he’d brought with him. “Let’s get you people hidden.”
The Strykers remained where they stood, in a line behind Lucas shoulder to shoulder. One of Matron’s scavengers pulled a bag out of the nearest SUV and dropped it at her feet. She knelt down and dug through it, coming up with two different traveling cases. The first one had tiny containers full of iris peels loaded with false identities. She picked four at random and handed them over to Lucas, who flicked them out of her hand telekinetically and slapped them into the Strykers’ palms. Threnody and Kerr looked at each other before prying open the cases and inserting the iris peels into their eyes. Following their lead, Quinton and Jason did the same.
The second box had thin strips of clear synthskin woven through with translucent bioware. Matron peeled the first few strips out of the cool gel that kept them active. She walked over to the Strykers and adhered the strips to their faces, making sure to hit as many main recognition points over their bone structure as she could. The government’s security grid would read them as someone else long enough to get them past the security checks.
“Do this often?” Jason asked as Matron none too gently pressed a strip over his forehead, aggravating his headache.
She grinned at him, revealing metal teeth. “It ain’t none of your business.”
She walked away, packed up the bag, and shoved it toward her people with a kick from one dusty boot. Lucas was already heading for the nearest SUV, climbing into the backseat. It was telling that no one tried to stop him.
“You trust him?” Threnody asked Matron as the woman made a quick hand gesture at her people, sending one person to lock the warehouse and the rest back into the vehicles.
“I’m alive because of him.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Get in the fucking car, Stryker.”
Matron said it low-voiced, more breath than sound, her eyes on her people and her distance from them rather than the four beside her. Threnody twitched, just a faint jerk of her shoulders, but it was enough of a reaction that Matron saw it out the corner of her eye.
“Did he tell you what we are?” Threnody said, her voice soft and careful.
“Lucas didn’t tell me he was bringing you people into my territory. I know government lapdogs when I see them. I don’t appreciate it, but I’m not going to fight him on it. Now move.”
Threnody and Quinton got in the SUV with Lucas while J
ason and Kerr climbed into the one behind. They buckled up as the doors were shut. The noise the engines made as they started up was almost too loud to talk over.
Lucas leaned forward on the middle bench, grabbing on to the front passenger seat where Matron sat for balance. He raised his voice so that he could be heard over the engine. “Are we on schedule?”
“Close enough,” Matron said, voice just as loud as she passed back a handful of ration bars that Lucas split between himself, Threnody, and Quinton. “We need to charge the engines, do a few diagnostics runs. The last set of codes you brought us got the hive connection online, but it still needs some work. We can hack the grid to get us over the arctic circle, so long as we’ve got someone jacked in. We still need to do a test flight.”
“The arctic circle is a no-fly zone,” Threnody said loudly from the back of the SUV. They had all the windows down despite the dust, making the engine sound even louder. The air-conditioning didn’t work and it was too hot without the gritty breeze from outside.
“Ever wonder why?” Lucas asked over his shoulder, leaning back against the seat he shared with another of Matron’s scavengers, chewing on his food.
“Wasn’t our business.”
“It is now.”
They drove away from the outskirts of Buffalo, heading southeast along the outside ring of tenement-housing blocks, many just entrances to the tunnels and bunkers below. The skyline of Buffalo was low and knobby until it got to the city towers in the distant north. Haze sat heavy and thick close to the ground, a hot blanket between them and the clouds that moved sluggishly through the sky. They were putting distance between them and what passed for society, and Threnody didn’t much care for the kilometers that ran out behind them.
How did you meet Matron? Threnody asked Lucas, wondering if anyone else could hear her through the psi link.