Psion Omega (Psion series Book 5)

by Jacob Gowans

  “Just go.” When Sammy didn’t move, Vitoria added, “Please.”

  “Bye.” He tapped the door with his fingers. When the door opened, Jeffie was standing outside wearing a blank expression. Croz sat down the hall next to the guards at the desk, watching from the security camera footage.

  “Ooh,” Vitoria said, instantly reverting back to her dominant sensual attitude, “your girlfriend. She’s pretty. Did you see us kiss?”

  Jeffie raised an eyebrow. “I saw something. Looked more like a puppy trying to lick ice cream off a child’s face.”

  Vitoria laughed snidely. “Jealous?”

  “Not really. If he liked it, he’d be blushing right now. I’m seeing more of a green tinge in his skin.”

  “Take care, Vivi,” Sammy said.

  When he closed the door, Jeffie took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine.” He scratched his head. “I don’t get her.”

  Jeffie snorted and linked her arm in his. “I’m glad you don’t get her.”

  “How did you know she faked it, Sammy?” Croz asked when they reached the guard station.

  Sammy shrugged. “Instinct.”

  “I talked to Anna while you were in there. She’s going to sit in on the sessions starting tomorrow morning. It’ll be better that way. No hard feelings.” He patted Sammy on the shoulder as though that made everything better.

  Sammy tried to act nonchalant about the decision. “I just want to help her. No one cares about her as much as I do … or understands as well what she’s been through.”

  “I know,” Croz said, “But it’s time to try a new face.”

  Heading toward the doors, Sammy let out a long slow breath and pulled Jeffie closer to him. “All I get with Vitoria is walls. Why do people shut out those who try hardest to help them?”

  Jeffie raised an eyebrow at Sammy. “I don’t know. Why do people put up walls between themselves and the people trying to help them?”

  Knowing Jeffie would want to drive, Sammy opened the driver’s side door for her and got in on Lemon’s passenger side. “I don’t put up walls.”

  Jeffie made an exasperated noise with her lips. “Sammy, you’re the King of Wallmakers.”

  Sammy thought about that while they drove back to his place. When Jeffie parked Lemon, Sammy took her hand in his. “I almost killed Brickert,” he whispered. “I attacked him like a savage. I helped put him in that coma. And—and I don’t even have the guts to tell him.”

  Jeffie rubbed his arm and ran her fingers through his hair. “You’ll tell him someday, when you’re ready. And you know what? It won’t change anything. You guys are brothers. He won’t even hold a grudge. Just tell him when you’re ready.”

  Sammy pulled away and rubbed his face. “Thanks.”

  Jeffie smiled. “Don’t mention it. Now … we have the rest of the day ahead of us to do whatever we want. Should we call some friends over to hang or would you rather just make out with me on your couch?”

  They ended up doing both. That evening, Kawai, Li, Strawberry, Natalia, and Brickert came over to play games. They played late into the night. By the time it ended, Jeffie had fallen asleep on the couch. Sammy covered her with a blanket and went to bed.

  Late Monday morning, he woke to the sounds of Jeffie rummaging through his dirty clothes. “What are you doing?” Sammy asked her.

  “I can’t find my barrette. I gave it to you yesterday and you put it in your shorts. Remember?”

  Sammy blinked several times to clear the blurriness from his eyes. “Yeah. Check my pockets.”

  “I did. I think it fell out.”

  “Don’t you have more?”

  “Yes, but I like that one …”

  Sammy dumped his dirty clothes basket onto the floor and started throwing socks, shirts, boxers, and other articles onto his bed one by one until he reached the end of the pile.

  “I must have lost it. Sorry.”

  Jeffie gave him an exaggerated pout. “You have to help me find it. We’ll retrace all your steps.”

  “I only went to the Pen—” Sammy paused. In his mind’s eye he saw Vitoria staring at his shorts, not his crotch like he’d thought, but at his pocket, tackling him, pulling at him, kissing him. He cursed. “Vivi …”

  16. Volunteers

  Monday, September 1, 2087

  SAMMY DASHED DOWN to the tunnels. He had no idea if he was freaking out over nothing, but he prayed that Lemon would start up without any problems. Croz and Anna’s session was supposed to have started five minutes ago. Normally a drive to the Pen took fifteen minutes. He made the drive in under ten, scolding himself every second of the way.

  As he drove, Jeffie sat beside him trying to reach Anna and Croz, but neither answered their coms. Finally she reached the security office and had them patch a call through to the guard station outside the cell, but even they didn’t answer. Sammy cursed and punched down on the accelerator. Don’t do anything stupid, Vitoria. Please don’t do anything stupid.

  They pulled into the lot, and Sammy jumped out of his seat. As he ran up the steps he could hear a movie playing through the door to the Pen. The guards were always watching movies. Behind him, Jeffie vaulted the steps, but Sammy didn’t wait. He banged open the door, ready to act.

  The guards weren’t in their chairs. Sammy sprinted down the hall to Vitoria’s cell. One guard was running toward Sammy yelling into his com, the other was fumbling with her keys to unlock the cell. “Move!” Sammy roared.

  The guard hurled himself out of the way as Sammy blasted the door twice before the door burst open. Vitoria lay on the bed, blood trickled from her mouth, her eyes closed. Croz was on his stomach in a pool of blood.

  “Sammy …” a voice whispered from behind.

  Sammy spun and saw Anna on the ground, Jeffie’s barrette jutting out of her neck and between her trembling fingers where she tried to staunch the flow from her carotid artery. “She caught me off guard,” she breathed. “So fast.”

  Sammy knelt next to Anna and held her up, his hands fumbling to staunch the flow from her wounds. He tried to think if there was a med pack nearby he could grab. Then he looked at Jeffie and said, “Check the guard desk for a kit.”

  As Jeffie ran back down the hall, Anna tried to whisper again, but he shushed her. “You’ll be fine, Anna. We have a mission to go on, remember?”

  “So now you want to go?” she chuckled, but it was a weak, hoarse thing. “I don’t think I’m gonna last that long.”

  “We’ll get you patched up. You’ll be fine.”

  Anna shook her head very slightly. “I’m dead. You have to do it.”

  “I can’t, Anna. I don’t think I’m—”

  “It has to be … you.” She coughed weakly. “I’m your honcho … and I’m ordering you. Promise.”

  Sammy’s face screwed up. “No.”

  “Promise,” Anna growled and coughed up blood. “You are the one to do it. You were … born for it. Pick your teammate. Pick the best. You can’t fail.”

  Sammy couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. She looked into his eyes. Blood spattered her pallid face, covered her hands and arms, but her eyes were still so full of spirit and command. He saw need there too. She depended on him. Her lips moved again, but her voice was so faint, so quiet, he had to lean to hear her. “Promise me …”

  Sammy still couldn’t speak, so Anna continued. “I am a servant of the people. On my own accord I declare my life is not … ” Anna’s voice trailed away. When Sammy looked into her eyes again, the life had left them. He placed his hand under her head and cradled it.

  “ … my own. I will give my mind, my strength, and my heart to the service of the government so long as the government serves the interest of the people. With justice as my strength, I will protect the freedoms and liberties to which my people have a right. My life is not my own. I am a servant of the people.”

  By the time he finished, Anna had breathed her last breath. Jeffie knelt n
ext to him though he hadn’t heard her enter. Sammy set her down and whispered in her ear, “I promise, Anna.”

  Kill Vitoria, a voice from inside commanded him. It was so powerful and urgent that Sammy got up to do just that. He stepped over Croz’s body to Vitoria who lay sprawled across her bed. The left side of her face was now a purple, swollen mess, but her chest rose and fell shallowly.

  One good blast will do it. Right to the neck.

  The urge was strong enough to make his hands quake, but Sammy did not bow to it. Instead he carried Croz and Anna out of the room, closed the door, locked it, and pulled on it to make sure it would still hold. As he did so, several members of the resistance arrived, including Thomas and Lara.

  Sammy stayed at the Pen for three hours helping to clean up. Footage from the security cameras made it very clear what had happened. Vitoria had waited until Anna was distracted, and thrown the barrette into her neck. Then she grabbed Croz and tried to force him to open the door. When he didn’t, she stabbed him with three expertly placed paperclips that pierced his heart and aorta. Once she had a clear shot, Anna blasted Vitoria into the wall hard enough to knock her out cold. Less than a minute later, Sammy and Jeffie arrived at the Pen.

  “I should have known she had the barrette,” Sammy told Thomas and Lara. “I shouldn’t have even had it on me.”

  “It was a mistake, Sammy,” Lara said. “Croz shouldn’t have taken the paperclips in either. We weren’t vigilant enough.”

  “You didn’t kill them,” Thomas added. “She did.”

  “I should have known better,” Sammy continued, “but my pride, the thrill of the idea that she wanted me … I should have seen.”

  Dr. Rosmir was attending to Vitoria’s wounds, when Justice arrived.

  “Get off me!” the Tensai shouted at one of the guards. In his hand was a gun.

  “What are you doing, Justice?” Lara asked.

  Justice’s glasses were askew, his face twisted in hate. “I’m putting the beast down. I said get off me!”

  “You’re going to murder her?” Sammy asked.

  “Execution is not murder.”

  “We need her, Justice!” Lara argued.

  “No. If Anna hadn’t stopped her, she would have had free reign over the compound. She would have exposed us. She’s too wild!”

  Thomas rushed Justice and shoved him against the wall. “Put that gun down!”

  “She’s dead.” A tear ran down Justice’s reddened cheek. “I need to do this.”

  “She was dead anyway,” Sammy said. “She was going to volunteer for the Rio mission. She wanted to die.”

  Justice pointed the gun at Sammy’s face. “Shut up.”

  “It’s true.”

  Justice’s face scrunched up and more tears fell. Thomas grabbed the gun from him and pulled him into a hug. “It’ll be okay, son. It’ll all be okay.”

  Justice moaned and sank to the floor.

  “We need to hold a special meeting tomorrow,” Sammy told Lara. “Everyone invited—the leaders, all the Psions, the Tensais, the Ultras, and the Elite. It’s time to move our plan forward, focus the resistance, and tell everyone why Vitoria is here. I’m afraid someone might do something rash if we don’t. And if it’s all right with you and Thomas, I’d like to lead the meeting.”

  Lara nodded numbly, her eyes on Justice. Sammy found Jeffie and took her home. He did not sleep that night. It wasn’t for lack of trying. In the wee hours of the morning, he rose and jogged through the underground tunnels, hoping to clear his mind, to embrace the death he knew was coming. He wondered who would volunteer to walk with him into the dark valley. Part of him wanted no one to step forward. Another part wanted two others to volunteer and relieve him of his duty. But he’d made a promise and knew he would keep it.

  Thomas, Lara, Commander Byron, and Justice met Sammy in the meeting room an hour before it was scheduled to start. Justice looked like he had gotten no more sleep than Sammy. His eyes were dark red and swollen, his clothes and glasses still askew. He glanced at Sammy as he sipped on a mug of coffee. “I’m sorry for the gun, man. I—I never would have—”

  “I’m sorry too,” Sammy told Justice. “I know you—”

  “Yeah,” Justice said in a subdued voice. “You were right, though. She wanted it this way, though. Wanted to go out in a blaze. That’s why we never … Anyway, she’s happier now.”

  Sammy took a sip from his own mug. “Yes, she is.” The weariness went deep in his bones.

  Justice touched Sammy on the arm. “Hey, you don’t have to be the one. She wanted you to do it, yes, but you don’t have to.”

  “I do.” Sammy said it so matter-of-factly that Justice took a step back.

  “Why?”

  “Because I keep my oaths.”

  An hour later over a hundred people filled the meeting hall. Sammy had been to many leadership meetings for the resistance, the first one being in Wichita, when the resistance members had given him a standing ovation. He received no such praise now. He was no longer the scared kid he’d been. In fact, he felt no fear and that worried him.

  Jeffie gave him a sad smile when she entered and took her seat with Brickert, Natalia, and the other Psions. Word had spread among the resistance about what had happened the previous morning, and the somber mood reflected that. Thomas opened the meeting with a prayer and a short speech, explaining in full what happened to Anna and Croz, and reminding everyone of the risk that the resistance’s work entailed. Then he turned the time over to Sammy.

  “The purpose of today’s meeting,” Sammy began, “is a call for volunteers. Thanks to the data recovered earlier this year and the hard work of the men and women who’ve analyzed it, the leadership committee has prepared a plan of action that has a chance to end the war. The move is bold and complex, and will require weeks of further planning and preparation despite what we’ve already accomplished.

  “After planning this mission in subcommittees for the last few weeks, we feel it is time to make a call for volunteers to enlist. Our planned day to strike is November 11. Seventy days. Each one matters. Each one could mean the difference between success and freedom or failure and its consequences. The NWG will join us in our efforts led by Commander Havelbert and Ivan Drovovic.

  “The offensive will be executed in four stages. Stage one will take place six days before the main strike. A team of resistance members will commandeer a major news station and broadcast an invitation for CAG citizens to take up arms against the government in Washington D.C.”

  Sammy paused, remembering the extensive debates they’d had in committees over the ethics and hypocrisy of hijacking a news station to broadcast a message about terrorism. In the end, the committee had ruled in favor of carrying out the mission so long as no deaths occurred in the process.

  “Extra care will be taken,” Sammy continued, “to ensure that there are no casualties in this stage of the plan. It will severely undermine our efforts if lives are taken while we take the station. During the broadcast, evidence will be presented that the CAG authorized and coordinated acts of terrorism on its own soil in order to implement greater restrictions over travel and communication.

  “Stages two through four will all take place on the same day. Stage two will be comprised of a joint strike on D.C., land and air. The attack on the capital will be real, and hopefully massive, but its primary purpose will be to serve as a decoy while other teams execute clandestine operations on specific sites. Successes in all three stages are key to victory.

  “Stage three will take place in the territory of Brazil, including a covert op in Rio and an air defense team in the jungle protecting the Hive from a potential CAG aerial strike. Stage four will also be a covert op in Orlando with a select team of operatives.”

  Sammy paused, trying to decide if he should say the words he had prepared. After a deep breath, he continued. “It goes without saying that these assignments carry with them great risk. Lives will be lost. Families will be separated. I can fi
nd no example in history where tyranny has been overthrown and freedom won without the shedding of blood. It will be no different in November.

  “We need volunteers, men and women; anyone sixteen and older who will follow commands and be brave in the face of death and bloodshed. We need people who can shoot, who can fly, who have medical training, but most of all, who love liberty. Stage three, at the Hive, will need a team of skilled pilots in the air. Who will lead this team?”

  One hand went up immediately. Its owner did not surprise Sammy. It was Kallen Dinsmore. Sammy had served in Charlie Squadron with him. Kallen had saved his life.

  “Kallen Dinsmore has volunteered. Will anyone second this?”

  “I second it,” said Ludwig.

  “His proposal is accepted,” Sammy announced. “Who will volunteer to go with him?”

  Many hands went up, most of them Elite or older Psions, including Al. Notes were taken of the men and women who raised their hands so Dinsmore could choose from among them.

  When this was finished, Sammy continued. “Now we need someone to lead the operation against the broadcast station. Who will lead this team?”

  Someone cleared a throat behind Sammy. Thomas Byron had his hand raised. Lara hissed at him, “Put your hand down. You’re too old.”

  Thomas responded by standing, his arm still high in the air. “Then I’ll ride a horse like Washington, but I’m doing this!” he said obstinately.

  No one opposed Thomas. In fact, dozens offered to go with him, the vast majority from the non-Anomaly members of the resistance. Once the matter was settled, Sammy moved on to the next stage. “The strike on the capital will be a vast undertaking. Strategy will be handled by the leadership committee and Commander Byron, our liaison with the NWG military forces, but we still need leadership on the field of battle and in the air. Who will volunteer to command our forces in D.C.?”