by Jaye McKenna
* * *
The lodge was a lot smaller than Draven remembered it. When he’d been sick and in pain, the distance from the bed to the outhouse had seemed a vast gulf, though in reality it couldn’t be more than four meters. It was dirtier than he remembered, too, and he shuddered at the thought of Cam trying to take care of him under such primitive conditions. There wasn’t even any hot water.
Good thing he wasn’t planning to be here long.
A barely perceptible buzzing on the edge of his awareness told him the sonic disruptor was still active. He’d been carrying the thing — activated — in his jacket pocket ever since he’d snuck into Sylvester’s suite. If Sylvester was wearing an implant, Draven was going to make damn sure it wasn’t able to pick up anything until he’d managed to dump the investigator someplace far away and make his escape.
Killing him would have been so much easier. Safer.
But…
I wish there didn’t have to be blood…
Cam’s words still echoed in his mind, and it wasn’t so much the words themselves that had goaded Draven into this course of action, but the defeated set to Cam’s shoulders when he’d said them. The weariness and resignation had been so thick they almost choked him. Cam could make the hard decisions, but it was killing him. If Draven could get around this without adding to the body count — and Cam’s guilt — then damn it, that’s what he was going to do.
He’d managed to start a fire in the woodstove, and now he sat at the table waiting for his… guest? prisoner? to wake up from the stun-shot he’d delivered when he’d crept into Sylvester’s room at the Institute.
He was putting another log on the fire when a hoarse curse cut through the silence. “Where am I? What happened?”
Draven turned to face Sylvester and approached the bed, but there was no recognition in the man’s eyes or in his mind.
Not surprising that he didn’t remember. Seven years ago, Draven had performed his own version of mind-wiping on Sylvester after Cam had betrayed him. He’d walled the man’s memories off so completely, he’d never find them. When DeMira wanted someone to forget, he wanted them to forget permanently.
“Who are you?” Sylvester demanded. “What do you want?” He started to struggle, eyes widening as he realized he was bound. When struggling proved ineffective, he started yelling.
Draven wasn’t impressed. He waited until Sylvester paused to draw breath, then said flatly, “Make as much noise as you like. Although I feel it’s only fair to warn you that all you’re going to accomplish is to make my headache worse.” He raised the pistol so Sylvester could see it. “Which might not be wise, seeing as I’m the man with the weapons.”
Sylvester snapped his mouth shut, but he continued to struggle. Draven pulled up a chair and settled back to wait for the man to calm down a bit. Sylvester wasn’t going anywhere; military-grade binders were impossible to break, nearly impossible to hack, and illegal as hell in the hands of a civilian. He’d been surprised to find them in the tool kit.
If he’d had any doubts about Cam’s willingness to bend the law well past its breaking point, the contents of the tool kit would have laid them to rest. It contained everything Draven would have packed and a few things he wouldn’t have thought of.
His prisoner finally stopped struggling long enough to ask, “Did Asada send you after me?”
“No.”
Another round of pointless struggling ensued. Draven waited. He wasn’t in a hurry.
Sylvester was sweating and panting when he finally stopped pulling on the binders. “What do you want?”
“I want you to stop investigating Miko Asada,” Draven said quietly. “And I want to know what you think you know and how much of it you’ve reported to your superiors.”
Sylvester attempted a laugh, but it sounded weak and shaky. “I’m not telling you a damn thing.”
“Fine,” Draven said flatly. “Have it your way.” With a thin, humorless smile, he adjusted his shield and went to work.
Chapter Ten
It didn’t take long for Miko to insinuate himself into the Wanderlust’s data-net, and it proved a welcome distraction from the constant discomfort of Rafe’s presence. Rafe’s mythe-shadow was still a dark, painful mess, and Miko sensed his anxiety as clearly as he had when Rafe had been at the opposite end of the campus.
He hadn’t dared ask for Anarin to ease his discomfort; he needed access to the net to intercept any messages Sylvester might try to send out. So far, there had been none, and Miko couldn’t decide how he felt about that. On the one hand, anything about him that could be read by human eyes and remembered by a human mind was a problem. On the other… maybe Draven had seen to it that Sylvester couldn’t send any messages ever again.
The thread tying him to Draven was right there, glowing temptingly in the mythe, but Miko couldn’t quite bring himself to give it a tug and find out.
If Draven had done something to Sylvester, Miko was to blame. He almost wished now that he’d never suggested seeing Draven before Cameron took him to Anja. If the Pattern had been as clear to him as it once had, he would have seen the inevitable consequences.
He hadn’t even asked for himself. Cameron’s longing had flickered so brightly through his mythe-shadow, and it had seemed like such a simple thing at the time, to suggest he wanted to see Draven so that Cameron could see him, too.
A gesture of kindness that had set Draven on a path that could land Cameron in the crosshairs of an investigation.
With a resigned sigh, Miko turned his mind to the net, where he could lose himself in the mazes of data structures that made far more sense to him than people did.
The net was the only place where he still had some semblance of control. Like a ghost, he drifted past FedSec’s defenses and made his way straight into the heart of the Command Council’s secret partition. There, he searched for any mention of Sylvester’s suspicions. He found nothing about himself, but what he did find was far more alarming.
A knock on his cabin door pulled him partially out of the net. It only took the briefest flicker of intent to unlock the door. When he did, Anja stepped into the cabin.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said, “but Rafe asked me to check on you. Said he didn’t see you at breakfast.”
Miko barely heard her. He was still immersed in the file he’d found. A file Cameron didn’t have access to, and wouldn’t, because the Command Council had deliberately kept him out of the loop. Worse, FedSec had just released a new, improved batch of spy-bots, and Miko was still in the process of purging them from the Institute’s systems. He dared not risk sending a message until he was certain it wouldn’t be intercepted.
But this information couldn’t wait.
“Miko?”
He blinked up at the Wanderlust’s captain.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. I was… talking to your AI.” That was the simplest explanation. The only one she’d probably understand.
“Cam said you were a genius with the hardware,” Anja said, glancing up at the comm speakers where Miko’s synthetic voice was coming from.
“I need to talk to him,” Miko said. “Fast. And secretly.”
“Meaning what, exactly? You can’t go back dirtside. Cam wants you safe up here, where no one can find you.”
“I have information Cameron needs, but I can’t use the data-net.”
“Sensitive data, then.” Anja wrinkled her nose. “Something you want to deliver personally.”
“Yes. Would you be willing to take it?”
“I guess I’d better, if it’s that important.”
“There can’t be any records of the trip,” Miko told her. “No flight plan, no contact with the Station Master.”
Anja shook her head. “This isn’t an action vid, Miko. Shuttle flights to the surface are closely monitored… I could lose my license if I don’t file a flight plan.”
“I can hide you from the station’s AI. And I can make Iral Traffic Contro
l think the shuttle is just a flyer. You’ll be fine, as long as you stay out of the Iral traffic lanes.”
Doubt flared through Anja’s mythe-shadow. “What’s the message?”
“I found the minutes of yesterday’s Command Council meeting. ChemGenTech has developed a drug they claim destroys psi. The Command Council has been in contact with the Aurora Senate, and they’re discussing what kind of legislation would be required to force psions to take it. Given the current laws regarding psions, what they’re proposing wouldn’t be in violation of the Charter.”
The color drained from Anja’s face. “They can’t do that,” she said in a low voice.
Miko cocked his head. “If they get enough support for it, they can. I thought Cameron should know. It was suggested that they ask for volunteers from the Institute to demonstrate its effectiveness.”
“Shit. All right. If you really think you can keep me out of trouble with the Station Master, I’ll pass the word on. Anything else?”
“Maybe. Your AI says you’re loaded with colony gear.”
“Yeah. Stuck with it, more like. Alpha Station fucked us over good. Turned us away because I wouldn’t force the crew to submit to psionic testing. We couldn’t complete delivery, so we’re stuck with the cargo until we can sell it to another client. Had to sell off our other ship to cover docking fees here. If we can offload the equipment fast enough, we might be able to buy her back, but…” Anja bit her lip. “I’m not counting on it.”
“Don’t sell it,” Miko said. “We could use it.”
“For what?”
Miko licked his lips. “What if they decide to drug us all? Kill our psi? We might need to leave the Federation. It would be easier if we had all the equipment we needed. Wouldn’t it?”
“It sure would.” Anja nodded slowly. “But where would we go?”
“Tarrin and Vaya thought maybe Aion, but… it will be weeks before their Council of Chiefs meets, and even if the Council agrees to shelter us, I’m not sure how safe we’d be there. Aion wouldn’t be able to protect us from the Federation. But I could find us someplace else. Someplace safe.”
“How?”
“I can get into the Federation Survey database. Find a star system that’s so far off the transport routes, we wouldn’t ever be found. Someplace without much in the way of interesting resources. And you already have everything we’d need to set up a new home sitting in your cargo holds.”
Anja’s brow furrowed as she considered what he’d said. “That’s… that’s actually not a bad idea, Miko. If it came down to a choice between losing my psi or taking my chances on a new colony… I know damn well which one I’d choose.”
“Tell Cameron it’s an option. I’ll start searching for a world that would be suitable.”
After Anja left, Miko lay back on his bunk and stared up at the ceiling. Was this what Aio intended?
The Pattern told him nothing.
And the dragons wouldn’t speak to him.
He was on his own, and he had no idea which way he was supposed to go.
* * *
Cam sat at his desk, staring blindly at his slate while he waited for the shit to hit the fan. It wouldn’t be long. Tension swirled thickly in the air, and a chill of premonition prickled up the back of his neck.
A long time ago, Miko had told him a storm was coming.
Maybe it was already here.
Draven was gone. He hadn’t contacted Cam after he’d left Cam’s apartment last night, and Cam couldn’t decide if that was a good sign or a bad one.
Miko was gone. He and Rafe were safely aboard the Wanderlust, with Station Security none the wiser.
Sylvester was gone, too, and it wouldn’t be long before someone brought that to his attention. The investigator was scheduled to meet Iverson out at Central Command this morning. Cam’s part was to play dumb, so he wasn’t going to be the one to point out that he was missing.
The call came much earlier than he’d expected, and it was from Pat, who was supposed to be picking Sylvester up in his suite and taking him to the meeting.
Cam told him he hadn’t seen Sylvester since yesterday, and settled in to wait. If Draven had done what Cam had all but ordered him to, they wouldn’t find him anywhere on campus.
Would they find him at all?
“You look like hell, kiddo.”
Cam looked up to see Anja standing in the doorway of his office, mouth pressed into a grim line. His heart sped up. “Is everything okay?”
Anja came in and shut the door, then mimed for him to turn on the sonic disruptor. Cam’s heart sank as he reached into his pocket for it. He’d been using the damn thing more and more often lately. If he was under surveillance, someone was going to figure it out eventually.
The moment the grating, buzzing discomfort started, Anja said, “I’ve got news from Miko, and it isn’t good.”
“What now?”
“The Command Council and the Aurora Senate were approached by a representative from ChemGenTech. They’ve developed a drug that destroys psi. The Command Council is in secret talks with the Senate regarding legislation that would force psions to take the drug.”
The headache was back, worse than before. Cam closed his eyes. “Yeah. I didn’t think it’d be long.”
“You knew about it?”
“I knew the Federation Senate discussed it in a closed meeting, but I had no idea the Aurora Senate had been approached. I thought we were going to have more time to figure out what to do.”
“Might be best to cut and run,” Anja said.
Cam let out a short bark of laughter. “Where to? There’s no place left in the Federation we can run to. Aion, maybe, but that’s hardly safe. They’ll know where we are, and Aion can’t stand up to the Federation Space Fleet. They have no weapons, no defenses.”
“So we leave the Federation,” Anja said quietly.
“The Alliance is hardly going to be any safer. Not for the likes of us.”
“I didn’t say the Alliance. Listen, Cam, I’ve got a freighter full of equipment designed for building a colony from the ground up. Heavy machinery, solar generators, seed banks, livestock in cold-sleep, as well as embryos and incubators, soil treatment equipment… And Miko’s into the Federation Survey Service’s database. He’s searching for a suitable system far enough off the transport routes that nobody’s likely to come looking for us anytime soon.”
Cam stared at her, the beginnings of both hope and fear stirring in the pit of his belly. “You… you’re talking like you’ve already got a plan. Can we really do that?”
“We can, and we might have to. Miko said to tell you that ChemGenTech suggested a demonstration of the drug’s effectiveness. The Command Council has agreed to let them ask you for volunteers. You’ll probably be notified within the week.”
“This is moving too fast.”
“Tell me about it,” Anja said. “We may not have much time to think about this. Talk to the people you can trust, and see what they think.”
He stared up at her. “Would you go? If it came down to a choice like that?”
“I don’t see that we have choice. How is it any different than singling out a segment of the population and blinding them? I wouldn’t want to bring children into a world that would force them to live without one of their senses. Yeah, I’d go. Hell, I’m going. And I’ll take anyone who feels the same way with me. My next stop is Mom and Dad’s place to pick up Marek and to let them know what’s going on. I want them to be ready when we move on this. We may need to move fast. Miko says if you want him to, he can get word to all the psions affiliated with the Institute — the ones who are scattered about the Federation.”
Cam’s stomach churned. “Tell him to get on it. They need to know there’s a choice. And make sure he emphasizes to them that they need to be careful. I can’t guarantee their safety if they come to the campus.”
Anja nodded. “I’ll tell him. Cam, he also said to tell you to be careful. He suggested you not trust any o
f the psi hunters who don’t live here at the Institute. He didn’t give me any names.”
“I know the ones he means. Their loyalty is to FedSec first, and always has been. Don’t worry — I know my people well enough to know who I can trust.”
“Good enough. I’ll leave it to you, then. I have a ship to prepare.” She left, eyes alight with purpose and determination.
He hadn’t even turned off the sonic disruptor before there was a sharp rap on the office door. Pat strode in, fury and tension sparking across the space between them. Kyn followed, shooting Cam an apologetic look as he closed the door and leaned against it.
With a sinking feeling, Cam drew his hand back from the sonic disruptor. Pat glanced at it, then glared at Cam. “Where is Draven?”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong — FedSec wants me to find out what the hell happened to put Jacob Sylvester in a hospital in Rio with his memory fucked to hell.”
“What?” Cam’s mind was still reeling from Anja’s news, and for a moment, he couldn’t even process what Pat had said. When it did finally sink in, it left him numb.
“You heard me,” Pat said in a flat voice. “He doesn’t remember a damn thing. Not his name, not who he works for, nothing. No sign of a head injury. It’s like he’s been mind-wiped, only there’s no trace of that kind of drug in his system. So tell me, Cam, where the hell is Draven?”
“He’s not out at the cabin,” Kyn added. “We checked.”
Cam hesitated. There would be an investigation, for certain, and while he had no doubts about his own ability to withstand interrogation, Pat and Kyn had never worked deep-cover assignments for FedSec. Neither of them had endured the conditioning he had.
“I… can’t tell you anything, Pat.”
Pat gave him a narrow stare. “Can’t? Or won’t?”
“Can’t,” Cam said shortly.
“What the hell am I supposed to tell Neil?”
“You tell him we know nothing about it. Sylvester disappeared from the campus last night, and nobody’s heard from him since.” Cam leaned back in his chair and met Pat’s gaze. “Or if you want to play by the rules, you tell him you think I’m hiding something. I guess that’s up to you.”