Shield

by Rachael Craw

  “Do you ever not speak in clichés?”

  “Your feelings for Ethan do you no service, Juno.”

  “Neither do yours,” she says, bristling. “Vengeance, jealousy and petty grievances don’t make for sound judgement. When the World Council arrives Ethan will face the charges. In the meantime, the Executive commissioned me with the task of overseeing the Initiative’s progress. As you can see we are in the middle of something. I suggest you let me get on with my job.”

  He takes a small step to the side. The Extraction team wheels Michael into the corridor. Stephanie looks tense and alert, eyeing the civilian agents with unconcealed disdain. Davis’s anxiety is sky-high but he keeps it in check, one hand on the gurney, the other gripping his crutch. His brain fires a slew of defensive strategy in which the crutch becomes a lethal weapon and I love him for it.

  Knox takes Juno by the wrist, a shade from snarling. “The Executive appointed me head of security. I strongly suggest you assist me in investigating the breach surrounding your clearance codes. A show of good faith.”

  Alarm thrills through me. I should signal Helena and Benjamin but I can’t bear to pull my focus away from Michael’s situation.

  She pulls out of his hold. There’s a stare-down moment between them; neither blinks.

  “I’m sure your capable team can manage without you for five minutes,” Knox says, viciously polite.

  She lifts her chin. “Davis, Stevens, take the subject to the lower barracks. Inform Counsellor Tesla, I will be down shortly.”

  No, no, no.

  Davis doesn’t like it either but he nods at her and the civ named Stevens starts pushing the gurney. Lane and the others stay close, either side of the Spark. I ride Davis’s signal to the turn in the corridor and recognise the entrance to the Recovery Room and ICU. It’s not far from here to the elevator to the lower barracks. I decide to stay with him until they make it to the elevator; if Knox is coming at least I’ll have the comfort of knowing they got Michael to safety.

  “You think they’ll try something?” Agent Stevens whispers, a burly red-headed civ who looks to be in his middle thirties.

  “Obviously,” Davis snaps.

  “What do you think’s up at the Vault?” Lane asks quietly.

  “Nothing good,” Davis says. “Quit your yap and stay alert. Stevens, I suggest your boys weapon up.”

  “You heard,” Stevens mutters to his colleagues.

  “We’ve got one job,” Davis says. “If you’re the last man standing …?”

  “Get the kid in the elevator,” Stevens says.

  The civilians nod.

  “It’s not fair,” Lane mutters. “I want a gun.”

  “Civs won’t get fried in ReProg for firing on Affinity Assets.”

  “Still,” Stevens mutters. “I’d rather have precognition than government immunity.”

  Davis scowls. “Shut the hell up.”

  They make the next corner and at the sight of the elevator ahead they pick up their pace, almost jogging. Davis struggles to keep up on his bad leg. Hostility fills the bandwidth, a blast of angry static. I don’t get a chance to warn Davis. Pain lights up in the back of his skull and his limbs lose their strength as he turns to defend himself. Stephanie sprints up the corridor towards him, a small silver disc in her hand, agents behind her. Davis hits the ground. Lane too. Guns fire but she doesn’t hesitate.

  I watch through his eyes, sharing his pain, as Stephanie and her team disable the civilian guards with only three shots fired. Hardly a fair fight. They wheel the Spark into the elevator and my panic almost pulls me from Davis’s signal. They do nothing to clear the corridor of fallen men. The elevator doors close on Michael Jessop and five armed anti-Initiative agents headed to the lower barracks.

  KNOX

  I snap back into the darkness of my own head, consumed by fear. The insistence of the tether, the knowledge of Knox’s brewing treachery, my powerlessness to act – a hot mess of incendiary elements. A sudden wash of colour and I’m staring through the filmy saline, the walls of the tank and the grated mezzanine floor, to brightness in the control room above where Helena waves her hands frantically over the computer console. Benjamin hovers beside her, his deep voice booming warning. It reaches me like a muffled echo. The tank’s thick glass distorts everything and I can’t yet swivel my eyes to see if anyone is coming. Bright red lights flash to life above us, answering that question and with it an angry siren. Though the sound is dampened by the saline it doesn’t stop my panic rising in response.

  Knox’s team has arrived.

  Helena waves her hand at Benjamin and Benjamin darting out of my line of sight towards the doors of the Vault. My brain spins at top gear. What will Stephanie do? Open fire on my father? Shoot Jamie in his cell? Or will she simply fight her way to the Stray and kill him?

  Throwing myself back into the bandwidth, I draw Jamie to the forefront of my mind, my memory of his signal, the unique resonant hum of our Synergist link. It’s only two, maybe three seconds of telepathic diving through the layers of the compound to the lower barracks. Jamie’s signal hits me as clearly as though he were with me in the tank. I lock on his mind and blast him with what I saw through Davis: coming sabotage, Michael on his way to the lower barracks.

  I feel him recoil, his shock, his fear. His signal surges through mine, like he can ransack my mind for more information, but there’s nothing else I can show him beyond what I saw. I feel the question in Jamie’s mind, the clash of fears – how to save Michael? How to save the Initiative? His sinking realisation that when the tether hooks him he won’t have a choice either way with no blocker to restrain his instinct.

  Our connection erupts with a static charge that cuts through my spine and the tether yanks hard behind my navel. Jamie feels Michael, the tether snapping into place for him like it has already for me. His signal withdraws, as all his need and attention turns towards the Spark. It’s my only comfort – even as I’m eaten alive with terror and frustration – Jamie will get free and he’ll fight. Michael Jessop isn’t alone.

  A distant boom and whirr and the Symbiosis cuts out – no warning. One minute I’m plugged into the universe with more telepathic muscle than I’ve ever known and the next it’s gone. My awareness of Jamie and the lower barracks – gone. Miriam’s signal in ReProg – gone. But worst of all … the tether, pulsing with the assurance of Michael’s life – gone. Out of range in the depths of the compound.

  The absence is immediately unbearable, worse than being robbed of oxygen. If I had control of my body or air in my lungs I would scream. Instinct sends out the alert – a synaptic flash – one hundred per cent fight. My brain obeys, discharging adrenaline like lighter fluid through my system. Electricity ignites my bones and a high-pitched note drills a nine-inch hole through my head. I feel the colossal pulse of energy building inside me to the peak of pain. I go off like a telepathic A-bomb.

  The tank shatters with a sound like a sonic boom. I plummet to the concrete floor below the metal platform. A sea of crushed glass and saline spreads out around me. The noise is terrific, an echoing crash that continues to ripple out beyond the epicentre of the destroyed tank. Screams layer the sound of exploding glass, Helena tearing her throat out and Benjamin’s lower cry of shock. More voices, shouting, and the swoosh of air as the space in the Vault seems to expand. The crash of boots on the metal walkway above and more agents rushing towards me below.

  Again my system bears down, gathering electricity for a defensive blast. Voices call out, heavy shoes slop through the mess around me, frantic hands grab at my body. The foreign touch triggers the pulse and energy surges from me in a blast. Cries of shock as whoever tried to touch me gets blown backwards. Cries of pain when they hit the ground. The clatter of weapons falling with them.

  “Stay back!” Knox. His voice and his signal. “Don’t touch her!”

  The moment of recognition coincides with the sudden lifting of paralysis from my body. The aftermath of artificial drowning
hits me like hell. I convulse on my side, spewing saline, choking in the undrowning, expelling the slimy solution in hot gallons. It burns its way up my oesophagus, out my nose, from my tear ducts, my ears. I thrash on the hard cold floor driving shards of glass deep into the side of my leg, hip, arm, shoulder, adding pain to pain as the purge wracks me.

  The need for air shrills through my brain, and my body goes after it – berserk, spasming, retching, turning me inside out. Heave after heave, black spots popping in my eyes, I finally secure my first gasp, a thimble of breath before my choking cuts it off. Another gasp then another. Somehow I get onto my hands and knees, coughing in short rasps. I fight fistfuls of air into my wet lungs, spitting and hacking until I can finally draw one rattling breath. With it comes a chemical stench and I blink at the black ooze flooding in around my hands.

  I scramble to my feet, skin crawling, no longer gagging from saline but the sight of my stained palms and fingers. The Symbiosis. I flap my hands like it’s the ectoplasm of tortured souls and gape at the empty space where the glass wall of the ReProg room used to be. The console area above me, no longer separated from the observation room or the space where Miriam lies beyond it. My telekinetic pulse took out both walls and cracked the remaining side walls in the central ReProg room. The Symbiosis leaks slowly to the floor. Some of it has splashed into the Actuation Vault but thanks to the sloping floor beneath Miriam’s chair the ocean of black has swamped the drain. Shards of glass pepper Miriam’s body and flecks of black goop stain her hospital gown, her face and hair. The chemical stinks like chlorine and motor oil and God knows what else. My feet sting but I can’t tell if that’s because of the chemical or the broken glass. I try not to imagine puree of Proxy entering my body through open wounds.

  There’s groaning around me as people try to pull themselves to their feet. Even on the walkway above people seem to be groaning. I can’t let them charge at me again; I need to get out and get down to the lower barracks. “Stay down,” I say, but it comes out like an airless whisper. I turn to face Knox, head spinning, my hands out in warning. My eyes are full of gunk and faces are blurry but I try to glare at him. “I’ll do it again.”

  Knox has pulled himself up against one of the supporting steel struts of the mezzanine, his forearm pressed beneath his taped nose, wincing at the fumes of the Symbiosis. He nods at the agents to stay where they are, his calculating gaze fixed on me.

  “I mean it.” I say, wheezing with effort. “If you try anything I’ll do it again.” I have no idea if I can follow through.

  “You’ve taken care of our weapons.” He gestures at the floor where a couple of guns lie submerged in saline and chemical goo. He looks past me to Miriam in the ReProg room then his gaze returns razor sharp to me. “Did you bring her back?”

  Where’s the fury, the accusations, the threats? His restraint is wrong-footing – somehow more ominous than shouting. The coiled tension in his stance, the ropy muscle taut in his neck, it makes my own muscles tighten. He’s furious all right. He’s murderous.

  There are two agents on the floor, disarmed by the blast, waiting for Knox’s orders. Two on the walkway with Helena and Benjamin – they still have guns. Guns. Not batons. Knox breaking protocol. I can feel Juno but I can’t see her. Why hasn’t she spoken up? The bandwidth thrums with ETR, Miriam distinct in the mix. Reams of defensive strategy fire through my brain. “Yes.”

  He looks back over his shoulder. “Isn’t she the gift that just keeps giving?”

  Juno finally steps out from the shadows, taking in the wreckage and Miriam in the room beyond. Her expression gives nothing away.

  Knox cocks his head at her. “Did you give this girl your clearance code?”

  “Why would I assist this girl to bring back Ethan’s lover?”

  “I stole it. I Harvested the code. Counsellor Thurston didn’t have a clue.”

  Juno doesn’t miss a beat, following my lead with a flawless display of outrage. Knox looks like he’s trying to decide if he’s disappointed not to find her complicit or thrilled to get my confession. His breathing is fast and shallow. He goes from not blinking at all to blinking like there’s sand in his eyes. “Your father is willing to sacrifice you to the Isolation Tank for his personal gain but not for the greater good of the entire organisation? Why am I not surprised?”

  My pulse beats like a bell hammer inside my skull. “He doesn’t know anything about this; it’s got nothing to do with him.”

  “Really?” His mouth makes an ugly line. “You know, even a trained Proxy would struggle to bring someone out of stasis but you just reach right in there and pull her out. I had almost convinced myself it would be less hassle just to kill you. I’d have ten, fifteen minutes to harvest your eggs before your body cools but then you pull a move like this and I change my mind again.”

  Fluid rattles my chest and I struggle to speak. “I know what you’ve done. I felt him arrive. I saw what your agent did to our team.”

  His eyes widen, hungry and pleased.

  “What is she talking about?” Juno demands.

  Knox ignores her. “You saw Stephanie?”

  “Call them off,” Juno says, her voice low with warning.

  “My team has no interest in harming anyone. They have one order: revive the Stray and let nature take its course.”

  There’s an intake of breath. The agents accompanying Knox look at him, dismayed.

  Michael Jessop.

  “No,” I choke.

  “Call them off,” Juno snaps. “Immediately.”

  “I merely seek to demonstrate the natural order. Tonight’s little skirmish will highlight the Initiative’s incompatibility with the Primary Objectives of the Affinity Project. The World Council will withdraw its support and we will return to our core business. DNA is a marvellous, powerful thing, Evie. Instinct was given to us for a reason.”

  “Then you’ll understand when I kill you for putting my Spark in danger, you hypocritical prick.” I step towards him, chemical, saline and glass slipping between my toes.

  “Evie,” Juno warns.

  “You know,” Knox says, unfazed. “I must have put Ethan through ReProg a half-dozen times when he joined us and he never broke. Miriam put up a decent fight. I can’t deny I’m curious to see how long you’d last but now we know you’ll be far more useful to us in the Isolation Tank than rotting in stasis.”

  “I broke your tank.”

  “We’ll build a new one.”

  “I’ll break that too.”

  “Not once we replace your tracker.”

  “I won’t be your lab rat.”

  “You’ll be whatever the Affinity Project wants you to be, Evie. Your DNA is our legal property, your blood test confirmed it, and now you’ve proved you can survive the tank. The World Council has no reason to protect you. Not even your father’s precious Reform can save you.”

  Instinct takes me. I lunge for him but I’m cut short by a burst of precognition and movement in my peripheral vision. I barely duck in time as an agent swings for me. She’s fast, quickly recovered after being thumped by my telekinetic surge, wearing boots that protect her from the glass and ready for action. I stumble and slip in the saline but manage to block her strike. She moves around me, taking shots at my hip, knees, shoulders. I dodge and block the best I can, but I have broken ribs, splinters in my feet, I’m half-starved of oxygen and struggling to see straight.

  A gunshot rings out above our heads. We all duck. Up on the walkway, Benjamin holds a firearm in each hand, two agents unconscious at his feet. He trains one barrel on Knox, the other on the agent frozen in her attack on me. “Call her off.”

  Knox flares his nostrils. “You’re in breach of your probation, Mr Nelson.”

  Benjamin drops from the mezzanine, landing with a splash in front of me, guns trained on his targets. “You pardoned me.”

  “I live with regret.” Knox lifts his hands and nods at the agent to back down. She steps away, eyes on Benjamin’s gun.

&
nbsp; Another splash, Helena beside me. She goes to support my waist when noise from the ReProg room makes us both whirl. Miriam rocks beneath her restraints, choking on the tube in her mouth.

  “Go,” Benjamin says. “I’ve got this.”

  Juno looks on, eyes wide.

  I stagger towards Miriam, her name on my lips, not feeling the cuts in my feet. Helena splashes through the Symbiosis ahead of me. When she reaches the chair she forces Miriam’s head back on the rest. “Relax, Miriam. Relax. I’ll take it out. You’re safe. Evangeline is here.” She draws the length of the tube from Miriam’s throat with a slow steady hand. Miriam bucks and gags, eyes streaming, face red.

  I’m shaking or crying or both when I reach her side. I touch her face, murmur her name and consider passing out.

  Helena releases the restraints. Miriam flails her arms and gasps for air, rasping my name, “Evie … Evie.”

  “Call off Stephanie,” Benjamin demands back in the Vault.

  Knox sighs. “There’s no line to the lower barracks.”

  “Then get out of our way.”

  “What’s all this about, Benjamin? Trying to earn Ethan’s forgiveness? The girl’s? The Proxy used you like a meat puppet. So what? You did nothing wrong.”

  “You’re a prick,” Benjamin says.

  “I’m a leader, Benjamin. I do what others won’t because I understand the value of sacrifice for the greater good. Ask her.” Knox waves at me. “She’s seen what I’ve lost, what was taken from me. You don’t see me snivelling and gnashing my teeth. I’m a realist. Something your precious Tesla never came to terms with – always chasing the dream of Deactivation – but I believe that delusion is finally being taken care of as we speak.”

  Michael Jessop.

  A red-hot flash in the centre of my skull and this is how I kill Knox. Split seconds between the impact of his words and the bullet in his head. I drop Miriam on the chair. Rage propels me through the destroyed wall of the Vault. Slime. Glass. Blood in my mouth. Helena’s cry. Precognition. The agent who attacked me launches to intervene. My inner ear splinters with a piercing note. Pressure, power, release. A shock wave through my arm to her chest. The agent’s surprise when the air leaves her body and her feet leave the ground and she’s blasted backwards.