Strykers

by K. M. Ruiz

  “Fucking great. Why do I have to be your crux?”

  “Not the crux. The linchpin.” Lucas walked over to where Jason and Kerr were standing, then reached out and pressed a finger to Jason’s forehead. Jason knocked his hand away and took a step back. “I said it before. You were misdiagnosed, Jason. You’re not an average telekinetic. All that power inside your head means you’re something more. Our natal shields always break. They have to if we’re at all able to access our powers. But your shields are still up and you can still use your telekinesis to a certain degree. You’re strong enough to teleport.”

  Jason gave a derisive little snort. “So, what, you’re saying that just because my shields never broke, I’m a Class 0?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bullshit. The only psions who reach that rank are precognitives. I don’t see the future. I’m not whatever it is you think I’m supposed to be.”

  “Microtelekinetic,” Lucas said as he brushed past him. “You are what Nathan failed to produce in me, Jason. The Strykers got lucky when they picked you up. So did the world.”

  Lucas twisted his telepathy through their minds. He broke the mental blocks he had erected around the areas in their brains that bridged the synaptic distances between conscious thought and the powers they had been born with. Control came back in a heady instant, making the four light-headed.

  We’re either not human enough to leave, or we’re too human to stay, Lucas said into all their minds. It can’t be about who is more deserving anymore. That’s what got us here in the first place.

  They watched him walk away, none of them saying a word. What broke the silence was the faint hiss of gas, the scrape of metal on metal, and the crackle of fire as Quinton let tiny flickers of flame twist around his fingers. Clenching his hand around the fire, he put it out with a thought, skin hot to the touch.

  “I’m in,” he said, glancing over at Threnody and giving her a nod. He watched as some of the tension drained from her shoulders, loosening the rigid way she held herself.

  Jason threw his arms up in the air as he went back into the shuttle. “You’re all fucking crazy. Now leave me the hell alone so I can work in peace.”

  [TWENTY-TWO]

  AUGUST 2379

  TALLINN, ESTONIA

  They threw the bodies into the toxic burn pits.

  Dug deep into the limestone cliff that ran through the remnants of the capital city, kilometers from the Gulf of Finland, the burn pits were mostly full, but they still smoldered.

  Dalia panted through the filter of her skinmask, believing that she could taste the dead on her tongue. She couldn’t, not really. Didn’t stop her brain from trying to tell her nose that she should be smelling the dead. Perception was so easily messed with.

  “Is this the last of them?” the telepath beside her asked.

  Dalia looked at the small group of bond workers and scientists that were huddled together as if that solidarity could save them. They were dressed in worn-out work uniforms or lab clothes, faces full of terror, unable to run. Transferred here from farther inland, these were the people that had been assigned to her warehouse for a job that couldn’t be on record. Which meant they could not be on record.

  “Yes,” Dalia said as she reflexively touched her front pocket, feeling the multitude of data chips safe in her possession. Schematics enough to liberate them all. “Nathan wants no witnesses.”

  A telepath to turn off their minds.

  A telekinetic to toss them into the burn pits.

  Dalia licked her lips and tasted nothing but her own sweat. She had long ago gotten over the guilt for being a murderer. The government wouldn’t miss their stolen data, just as they wouldn’t miss the dead. Nathan, she knew, would be pleased that his orders had been so perfectly executed, here and in all the other places across the world like this. Those who weren’t wanted would be left behind and forgotten.

  There was no place in the stars for the useless.

  PART SIX

  CONVECTION

  SESSION DATE: 2128.02.27

  LOCATION: Institute of Psionics Research

  CLEARANCE ID: Dr. Amy Bennett

  SUBJECT: 2581

  FILE NUMBER: 196

  “Where’s Matthew, Mama?”

  “Your brother’s not here, sweetheart,” a dark-haired woman says as she crouches down beside the table, peering beneath it at the girl hiding in the only darkness that exists in the room. “He made it out of the country, remember? But he’s watching over you. Just like you wanted.”

  “Good, good,” the girl mutters, picking at the lace on her white socks as she glances at the camera. “I miss him.”

  “I know you do, but if you’re really good—”

  “Maybe I’ll get to see him,” Aisling interrupts, the frustration in her young voice impossible to miss. “You always say that.”

  The woman goes still. “No, I don’t.”

  Aisling raps her knuckles on the floor so hard the skin splits. “Here. You always say it here.”

  “Stop it.” The woman reaches out and pulls the girl into her arms, several wires pulling free because of the sudden movement. An alarm sounds, coming from one of the machines. “Stop hurting yourself.”

  “What if I’m wrong? Mama, what if I got it wrong?”

  The woman slides her fingers through her daughter’s dark hair, touching more wires than anything else. She hesitates only a moment before she grips a handful and yanks them off the girl’s head, setting off a multitude of alarms.

  “I should never have brought you to this place,” she whispers as the door slides open and a nurse comes in. “You’re not God, baby girl. You can’t save us, no matter what they say.”

  “I know, Mama.” Aisling wraps her small arms around her mother’s neck and holds on tightly. “I can’t save you here. I’m sorry.”

  [TWENTY-THREE]

  AUGUST 2379

  TORONTO, CANADA

  “Miss me?”

  Ciari didn’t bother to look away from the hologrid above her desk displaying all the recently gathered data from field Strykers. “You shouldn’t be here, Lucas.”

  “You always say that. Notice how I never listen.”

  This time Ciari did look up, watching the person who sat across from her through the colorful sharpness of the hologrid. The smile on Lucas’s face hadn’t changed a bit in the five years she’d known him. It was still as challenging as ever.

  “One of these days they’ll find out.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Sooner than you or I would like, but that’s the cost of success.”

  “Are we succeeding?”

  He looked away from her to stare at the ceiling. “Success is such a dangerous word. Everyone’s definition of it is different.”

  “I’m only interested in yours.”

  “You aren’t the only one.” Lucas glanced back at her, the smile on his face twisting into something unreadable as he rose to his feet. “There won’t be time after today for us. Not for a while yet.”

  “There’s never been time for us,” Ciari reminded him as he came around her desk and stopped behind her chair. “You showed me that when you revealed those old files showing Aisling and what she wanted. Disagreeing never got me anywhere.”

  “What have I told you?” He leaned down to whisper the words into her ear even as one hand curled over her chin to turn her head toward him, the other settling over her stomach. “You can argue about what Aisling wants all you like, it’s not going to change a damn thing.”

  “It could.”

  “Oh, Ciari.” He pressed his mouth against hers, the pressure just a ripple in her mind. “There’s a reason why she told me to include you. I’ve lived my entire life trusting in the veracity of details. Aisling is the devil in all of them. You can’t fight her, so stop trying.”

  Lucas.

  “Ciari?”

  The space behind her was empty, her mind just as barren. Just a memory, of some moment before this. Sucking in a soft breath, C
iari turned her head to acknowledge the pair of Strykers that had entered her office. “What is it?”

  Aidan and Jael shared a brief look before both telepaths focused on their OIC. Aidan stepped forward to set a data chip on Ciari’s desk. “We’ve got incoming reports from Buffalo of Warhound arrivals on the mental grid. Some of their shields slipped a little and we got confirmation of two psi signatures that match Samantha and Kristen Serca.”

  Ciari gave them both a surprised look. “Kristen? Are you sure?”

  Aidan nodded. “It’s her.”

  “She hasn’t been seen in years. I thought Nathan had her put down.” Ciari shook her head. “Kristen being alive complicates things.”

  “We’ll warn the Strykers that a dysfunctional psion has entered the fight.” Aidan shrugged. “I’m not sure if that warning will do any good, though. Everyone who’s ever gone after Kristen has always ended up dead.”

  Ciari minimized the hologrid with a wave of her hand. “It doesn’t matter. If those two are in the field, then that means Lucas has to be as well. Did the scans find any evidence of our missing Strykers?”

  “No. That’s not to say they aren’t with him, if he is there.”

  “Or dead,” Jael added.

  “It’s been a while since we lost the four in the Slums.” Ciari frowned. “If Samantha is leading the Warhounds in Buffalo, then most likely that is where Lucas is.”

  “We still don’t know if Lucas is aligned with them or not,” Aidan said.

  “I vote not,” Jael said sharply. “Two years on the run, being hunted by Strykers and Warhounds? Looking back at the information we’ve accumulated on that outlier blip that we now know is Lucas Serca, there’s not much evidence to the contrary. He was integral to the Serca Syndicate’s image while growing up as Nathan’s successor. Now it’s the twins. Lucas is no longer with the Serca Syndicate, nor the Warhounds. I think it’s time we let the Strykers Syndicate know that blip is still alive.”

  “And have everyone worry that we’ve got a third psion group coming into play?” Ciari grimaced as she pushed her chair back and got to her feet. “The World Court would blame us for allowing that to happen. The punishment would be severe. Not to mention the Silence Law is still in effect.”

  “They’re just going to kill us all anyway,” Jael argued. “What’s a few weeks early?”

  “Jael,” Aidan said, giving the CMO an admonishing look. “Remember who you’re speaking to.”

  “I do.” The petite black woman lifted her chin and glared stubbornly at Ciari. “The one person who has the power to argue our existence to the World Court. How’s that going, Ciari?”

  Ciari’s expression didn’t change. If she was angry at Jael’s accusation, at her bitterness, she didn’t show a single shred of it. “I’m not the one who’s going to save us. That’s someone else’s task.”

  “Really.” It was hard to ignore the ugly hatred in Jael’s tone. “Care to explain what you mean by that?”

  “I’m not obligated to explain anything.” Ciari shrugged. “But I’m a Stryker, Jael. No matter what happens, my goal is our continued survival. Give me some credit. I’m too close to the World Court to be able to effectively do everything that needs to get done. Every OIC has always relied on others for the more delicate work we do. You know that.”

  “Then who’s your scapegoat if you’re ours?”

  “You’ll know soon enough.” Ciari turned her attention to Aidan. “I’ll review what you gave me within the hour. Begin a callback of Stryker teams that we can afford to remove from the field for an immediate emergency transfer.”

  “What are you planning?” Aidan said.

  “What needs to be done. You have two hours to get me a list of teams that we can ship into Buffalo.”

  “What’s our limit?”

  “This is a Class I triad psion we’re going up against. You don’t have a limit.”

  Aidan nodded and turned to leave the office. Jael remained behind. Leaning against her desk, Ciari gazed at her CMO and offered up a half-smile.

  “Do you even know what you’re doing?” Jael asked, reeling in some of her anger.

  “I know what needs to be done.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question or ease my worry at all, Ciari.” Jael came around Ciari’s desk to stand by the other woman, looking out through the window wall that lined half of Ciari’s office. Jael could see the horizon, where Lake Ontario was still and placid in the summer heat beneath the haze of lingering pollution. “Unlike almost everyone else in our ranks, I’ve got full access to Stryker records. It may take me a while, but eventually I realize when something doesn’t add up.”

  Ciari didn’t bother to correct Jael’s misunderstanding of her own knowledge. She’d let the telepath believe what she wanted if it would keep the peace for just a few more weeks. “Aidan doesn’t question me. Perhaps you still have something to learn from him.”

  “Aidan doesn’t see the wounded, the dying, and the dead on a daily basis” was Jael’s flat response. “I do. We Strykers in command positions know about the launch date. Some of us just know, same as you do, that we won’t be on those ships when the engines trip over into full burn.”

  “No, we won’t.”

  Frustration bled out through Jael’s shields, thick enough for Ciari to almost taste it. “Then why aren’t we fighting to free ourselves? We have a right to live, Ciari.”

  “The World Court doesn’t think so. Luckily”—Ciari held up one hand to forestall Jael’s instant argument—“I’ve never believed that. I know what I’m doing, Jael. I know what’s at stake. So I’m asking you—asking, not ordering—to give me a little more time.”

  It was ironic, Ciari thought, that she was asking for the one thing that none of them had if she didn’t play this game just right. Jael meant well, but her desire to save people just made Ciari’s own job harder. Just as the World Court had decided that not everyone could have a seat on those shuttles, a berth on that colony ship, Ciari knew that not all of her Strykers would survive. It was just the way this particular world worked.

  That was the way it had to work.

  Jael shifted her gaze away from the skyline, turning her head to stare at Ciari. “You haven’t looked as hard as you could have for Threnody’s and Kerr’s teams. Is this why?”

  Ciari managed to give the other woman an actual, genuine smile that made Jael’s skin crawl. Real emotion never looked right when empaths used it for themselves, but it was all the answer that Ciari gave her.

  That, and “Trust me.”

  Looking at her right then, Jael thought that not even the gods some humans still believed in would trust Ciari. Jael supposed it was a good thing she wasn’t human.

  “It’s not like I’ve got a choice,” Jael said, hazel eyes narrowing ever so slightly in her dark face. “You’re all we’ve got standing between us and the World Court.”

  No, I’m not, Ciari thought. “Go coordinate with Aidan on the teams. I want them transferred as soon as possible once we have that list.”

  “How do you hope to explain this to the World Court?”

  “That’s not for you to worry about.”

  Hearing the dismissal in Ciari’s words, Jael left.

  “Computer, initiate lockdown,” Ciari said as she sat in her chair, hearing the chime signaling that her verbal order had been obeyed. Sighing, Ciari reached for the data chip that Aidan had delivered, unsurprised to find a second one resting beside it, clear, with no markings whatsoever to show whom it had come from or even where it had been manufactured.

  Ciari scooped them both up, holding the tiny squares in the palm of her hand, trying not to think about everything else that she couldn’t hold on to.

  [TWENTY-FOUR]

  AUGUST 2379

  BUFFALO, USA

  The hypospray hissed softly against his throat as Jason jammed his thumb against the release button. Adrenaline shot through his veins, sharpening his senses to an almost dangerous degree. He pulled
the thin cylinder away from his body with a ragged gasp.

  “That’s your sixth injection in the past twenty-one hours,” Quinton said from the hatch behind him, almost sounding worried. “You’re going to burst your heart if you use any more.”

  “Can’t be helped,” Jason rasped as he tossed the empty hypospray onto the floor of the flight deck. “I have to be able to think.”

  “Why not get one of the telepaths to keep you awake? Turn your mind permanently on for a few hours, or however much longer this will take.”

  “Doesn’t work on me.” Jason craned his head around to give Quinton a strained smile. “My shields don’t allow for very much psionic interference. Always wondered why, before Lucas said I’m supposed to be something other than a regular old Class V telekinetic. Anyway, I burn through this stuff so quick that I have to keep it in my veins with continuous injections. You know how it is.”

  Quinton stepped into the flight deck and watched as the younger man sat himself down in the pilot’s seat. Jason’s hands skimmed over the control terminal, prying hardwires out of the console and connecting them to the neuroports in his arms. Hologrids sparked into existence all around him, the light turning his skin a sickly gray.

  “Kerr can’t do anything for you?”

  “Kerr can only go so deep in my head, even with the bond,” Jason explained as he dragged his fingers through the readout, most of his attention on the program. “He needs to focus on his own mind right now. I’ll be fine. Something tells me Lucas won’t let me die before I finish this hive connection. The hackers they used didn’t know government code as well as I do.”

  Quinton grunted soft agreement.

  “Why are you still here, Quinton?”

  “Threnody was worried about your limits. I’ll tell her you’ve got none.”

  It drew a strained laugh out of Jason, making him glance over his shoulder at Quinton. The inspecs in his eyes were bright spots in his pupils. “Oh, I’ve got limits, but Lucas doesn’t care about them. I’m all out of hyposprays. Bring me another one in three hours. I’m going to need it.”