Psion Omega (Psion series Book 5)

by Jacob Gowans

Justice Juraschek raised a hand, his face solemn and resolute. Sammy was glad to see him take the responsibility. It was quickly seconded.

  “Anyone who wants to join the strike on the capitol will be welcome no matter their training or abilities. Volunteers should enlist with Justice and those he chooses to lead the companies. Now for the last missions … both require two people trained in covert ops to infiltrate the N Towers in Orlando and Rio. There is zero room for failure, therefore we are asking for two Psions. Who will volunteer to lead the team to Orlando?”

  Three Psions raised their hands: Ludwig, Li, and Commander Byron. Sammy’s chest swelled with pride, and chose among the three. “Commander Byron has volunteered. Will anyone second him?”

  At first no one did. And Sammy knew why. Byron could no longer blast from his feet. In that regard, he was only half a Psion.

  “I will second him,” Kawai announced. “If anyone will ensure the job gets done, it’s the commander.”

  “Who will volunteer to go with him?”

  This time all the Psions offered themselves. Sammy allowed the commander to choose. Byron surveyed them for a full minute before stating, “I choose my son, Albert.”

  Across the hall, Marie let out a sob and headed toward the door. However, judging by his face, the commander seemed firm in his decision. Now it was time to find the last volunteer.

  “The infiltration of the Rio N Tower will be led by myself, which leaves two other spots, one of which is already taken out of necessity by Vitoria Prado. Before I ask for a volunteer for the final spot, I need to say two things: first, only a Psion can go. Second … the nature of the mission is such that—that there will be no returning.”

  Sammy stared at the floor. He didn’t want to look at his friends or Commander Byron. He didn’t want them to think he was being brave because he wasn’t. Nor was he noble. He was only keeping a promise. And he was tired of it all. No more dead Kadens and Kobes and Toads and Annas and Dr. Vogts and Hefanis and all the others. No more fighting an anomaly he didn’t want. No more losing control.

  He looked up to see who might have raised a hand—who might have volunteered for death. Brickert, foolhardy as he was, might have. Or Jeffie or Kawai. His friends were brave. Maybe one of them.

  But he was wrong.

  Every Psion in the room stood. Every Psion raised a hand. Though he had already volunteered to go to Orlando, Commander Byron stood tallest among them to show his support. He was on his feet, wearing an expression of pride, his blue eyes beaming. Al stood too. Walking back from the doors she’d just exited, one arm supporting her baby girl, the other reaching for the ceiling, was Marie. Near her were Rosa and Miguel. Not far were Li and Ludwig. Then Sammy came to his four friends: Kawai Nujola, Natalia Ivanovich, Brickert Plack, and Jeffie Tvedt.

  Tears rolled down Jeffie’s cheeks as she held her arm high in the air. Sammy remembered their conversation from months ago, before the trek to the Hive. He had quoted to her a verse from the Book of Ruth. Where thou diest, will I die.

  Is this what she thinks that means? Sammy would not look at her, would not choose her. To choose her was to kill her. But could he do that to Brickert? Or Kawai or Natalia? A gnawing deep in his guts told him he couldn’t. He couldn’t pick anyone.

  Two Psions. The mission requires two.

  Another voice spoke to him. Who do you want to see die, Sammy? Who gets under your skin the most? Maybe Ludwig? Would seeing him die along side you give you some sense of satisfaction?

  Sammy turned the thought into a leaf and shoved it away, berating himself for thinking such a thing. “With so many volunteers, the decision will have to wait until another time. Thank you all for your participation and willingness to serve.”

  The meeting adjourned, and Sammy watched his friends make their way to the front to speak with him. For a split second, he considered bolting through the back door and blasting down the stairs, but he didn’t want to be alone.

  Kawai reached him first. “We’re going down to the river. You want to come?”

  That was not what Sammy had expected to hear, and he was glad. A few minutes later, he and his friends crammed into Lemon and drove through the tunnels lit only by dim strips down its center to separate traffic. Exits had been built into the passageways every three kilometers, ensuring that no one had to walk extreme distances underground in the event of car troubles. He parked the car in the tunnel and they came up near the banks of the Milk River.

  No one spoke about the meeting. Instead the conversation revolved around the weather, how summer was rapidly coming to an end in Glasgow, about how this might be one of the last warm days of the year. Determined to enjoy it, they kicked off their shoes and lay on the muddy bank, feet dangling in the cool water. The river wasn’t large or deep, and the soft sounds of its sleepy flow soothed Sammy. He wished he could turn off his brain for a few minutes, but all it wanted to do was solve problems. The problem at this moment: which Psion should go with him? Specifically, which person gave him the greatest probability of accomplishing the mission?

  Al: highly skilled in combat; mission competent; struggles with staying focused. May also find it difficult to take orders from me. Currently experiencing marital problems and a newborn child. Estimated chance of success: 69%

  Though Sammy didn’t want to consider Al, his brain still calculated the odds. Al was Commander Byron’s only son, and the commander wanted him for the mission to Orlando. Sammy dismissed the thought.

  Kawai made a comment to Li about how good the mud felt when she squished it between her toes. Li responded with something about piranhas. Sammy glanced at them. They had been a couple now for months. Both seemed happy.

  Kawai: skilled in combat; completed the two-Thirteen sim at Beta headquarters on most difficult level; more mature than most other Psions; showed competence and poise during mission to the Hive; willing to take orders; shows creativity under fire. Estimated chance of success: 77%.

  The clouds rolled overhead, an overcast late-summer day, beautiful and balmy. Natalia and Brickert commented on the shapes of some of them, making each other laugh. Sammy joined in watching them blow by. Clouds were transient things, just like people. We’re here and then we’re gone.

  Natalia: adequately skilled in combat; showed toughness and maturity during mission to Colorado Springs; seems to perform better around Brickert; follows orders but lacks ability to think on her feet. Recently wounded but on the mend. Should be fully healed by November. Estimated chance of success: 64%.

  Brickert chuckled at something Jeffie said, then started to make squelching sounds in the mud by sticking his toes in deep and yanking them out. “Doing this … I almost feel like a normal human being.”

  “What’s normal?” Sammy asked. But as he looked at his friend, the wheels continued to spin. Brickert: competent in combat; demonstrated extreme toughness and quick thinking during mission to Colorado Springs; shows that he learns from mistakes; follows orders and displays high willingness to excel. Estimated chance of success: 79%.

  Brickert screwed up his face. “I dunno. I think I forgot somewhere between living with other superheroes and getting my face bashed in by sociopaths.”

  Sammy shook his head. He couldn’t ask Brickert. He didn’t want to do that to his best friend. Natalia would crumble. He ran through all the names again. Then again. All with their own pros and cons.

  Eventually the girls and Li walked down the riverbed, leaving Sammy and Brickert alone. No sooner had they disappeared from sight than Brickert turned to Sammy and said, “I want to go with you.”

  “No.”

  “I knew you were going to say that. But listen, we’re brothers. There is no way in heaven or hell that I will let you die unless I’m there, I’ll tell you. I’ve accepted death. I did it the day the tower came down in Detroit. I should have been one of the hundreds who bit it then. I’m on borrowed time. Maybe it’s for this.”

  “Are you saying that fate kept you alive so you could die with me in
Rio?”

  Brickert looked at Sammy. “Maybe.”

  “Are you becoming religious, Brick?”

  “What?” Brickert snickered and sat up. “Like you?”

  “I’m not … well, I don’t know what I am. I guess I’ll find out soon enough, right? The clock is ticking.”

  “Sammy, please. Please let me do this.”

  “No.”

  “It has to be someone!”

  “Not you.” Sammy said it more firmly each time.

  “Why not? Aren’t I good enough? Let me make it easy on you. This way you don’t have to choose.”

  “Not you.” Sammy dug his hands into the muck, pushing back a sudden surge of rage. “You are not on borrowed time!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean it’s my fault you almost died.” Sammy could no longer look at his best friend. “I—I beat the hell out of you after I killed all the Thirteens. I almost killed you myself.” His voice broke when he uttered the last words. “I lost control and hit you and hit you until you … I—I’m so sorry, man.”

  Covering his face with muddy hands, Sammy fought back tears. Brickert nodded solemnly, his expression unreadable. “I had dreams about that, you know, while I was out. I thought they were nightmares.”

  “Brick … I am a nightmare.”

  “I’m sorry, Sammy.”

  “What are you sorry for?”

  “Bearing that burden must’ve been … I—I can’t even imagine. But look at me. I’m fine.”

  Sammy put a dirty paw on Brickert’s shoulder and pulled his friend into a tight hug. “And you forgive me just like that?”

  “Yeah, well, I would have, but now you’ve gone and ruined my shirt.”

  A laugh burst out of Sammy. But the laughter broke something inside him and he nearly started to sob. Again he stopped himself. He couldn’t cry. Wouldn’t. “I don’t want to die, Brick.”

  “I know. You don’t have to.”

  “I do.”

  “Someone else can do it instead.”

  Sammy shook his head. “I swore an oath.”

  “We all swore the same words. The duty rests upon every Psion.” Brickert sighed. It carried the weariness of an old man. “So now what?”

  “Somehow I have to choose.”

  “What if we all go with you? All five recruits together.”

  “That’s … overkill … for lack of a better word.”

  Brickert slapped the mud. “None of us wants to die, and none of us wants to watch you go. You have to do it strategically.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Who do you think is the best person to take?”

  “What do you think’s been running through my brain for the last hour? Calculations. Numbers. Data. Projections. All that crap. It’s all here.” He tapped his temple and got mud in his hair.

  “And what does it tell you?”

  Ludwig 51%. Rosa 59%. Miguel 69%. Strawberry 54%. Li 81%. Jeffie … “It tells me I need someone who complements my weaknesses, obeys orders unquestioningly, and—and motivates me to use my maximum potential.”

  Judging by Brickert’s face, he knew the answer as well as Sammy.

  “But I can’t ask her.”

  “That’s your call.”

  Sammy let out a long breath and sat up, his spine straight. “I am going to do this. It’s my choice, so I’m done worrying about it. Jeffie can make her own decisions. If she wants to go then who am I to tell her she can’t?”

  * * * * *

  Gone. Gone. GONE!

  It still did not seem possible that a man with stubs for arms and legs could escape the penthouse. She had torn apart the suite and not found a trace. Despite spending countless hours searching, the Queen was no closer to learning the whereabouts of the fox nor discovering how he had managed to engineer his own disappearance. The notion that he’d grown new appendages and simply walked out was as likely as every other theory. All she had learned for certain was that for over four hours’ worth of time the cameras, alarms, and security systems had stopped working.

  I had him beaten. Now he is out there gathering strength. What will his next move be? Her retention and consolidation of power depended on guessing correctly. In her mind was a list of names of people she had compiled who were likely to aid the fox. He had no family and few friends; the list wasn’t very long. Most of the candidates were from his time at the Elite Training Center. Over the last several days she had observed each of them closely, investigated them, and crossed names off the list one at a time.

  Her com rang. It was one of the Tensais working in the N Corp’s data analysis department, one of many departments the fox had created to balance the agendas of the Council without government oversight. Using bloated grants and earmarks rather than private funds, he had virtually unlimited resources to move the work forward under a corporate umbrella, answering only to his peers on the Council who helped pull the public opinion and government strings like a puppet master hidden in the shadows.

  Before answering, she turned on her voice synthesizer so she would sound like the fox. “Yes?”

  “Per your request, we have compiled a new list of sites that are candidates for hosting a large underground movement of rebels. I’m sending it to you now.”

  A hologram popped up from the Queen’s com with a list of five sites. “What makes this list better than the last? All eight sites on your previous list were incorrect. If I find that these ones are a waste of my time as well, you may find yourself looking for a job at a university teaching math.”

  The Queen ended the call and scanned the names on the list.

  K.I. Sawyer, Great Lakes Territory

  Rome, Territory of Quebec

  Blytheville, Southeastern American Territory

  Window Rock, Territory of Mexico

  Glasgow, Mid-Western American Territory

  Most of the new proposals were former military bases, closed for decades and turned into smaller communities. All of them had nearby airports and hangars. Three of them—Blytheville, K.I. Sawyer, and Glasgow—had satellite confirmation of people in or around the areas. Investigating the sites would require teams to fly to each location and spend days observing, searching for patterns, and evaluating data.

  “The Hive,” she told her com. A moment later Chad’s image appeared on her holo-screen. Chad was an Aegis flunky who had nearly been killed after failing training, but the Queen had swooped in and saved his life due to his abnormally high ranking on the loyalty scores. She had used her charms to turn him into her own little puppet, her own personal Diego. And as a bonus, his face bore no hideous scars like the old Diego.

  “Queen,” he said with a hint of breathlessness. “How can I serve?”

  “I need five teams to investigate five locations for possible resistance headquarters. How soon can you get me them?”

  “How soon do you want them?”

  “How soon can you get them?” she repeated.

  “Got it.”

  “Thank you, Chad,” she said, smirking.

  “You’re welcome. Do you … still plan to stop by this weekend?”

  “I think I will have time.” She ended the call with a sour taste in her mouth. With one last glance at the list of sites under investigation, she tapped her com and it went away. She missed the days when she was the one out searching and hunting down people. She had been good at that. Now she ran everything. She gave the orders. Perhaps it was for the best, but she wasn’t sure.

  This had better not be another waste of time.

  17. Trust

  Monday, October 13, 2087

  JEFFIE AND SAMMY sat outside the Pen, a bag of supplies at Sammy’s feet. They sat in silence, something more common since they’d volunteered for the mission to Rio. Jeffie’s hand rested on his, but it was cold like the tunnel where they sat. Sammy had learned to appreciate the quiet moments. Most of his days were now spent in training, poring over blueprints and schematics of the Rio de Janeiro N Tower,
devising their plot to break in undetected so the kill order could be activated. He didn’t want to think about how he was essentially planning his and Jeffie’s deaths.

  Both were dressed in combat suits, having come straight from another session of fighting holo-cameras recording them from every angle. To prepare for the mission, Thomas and his crew had built a replica of the white floor in Rio, where Jeffie and Sammy sparred with Nikotai, Li, Albert, and a few other Ultras and Psions. Sammy and Jeffie did this for at least an hour every day. But once work was over, they didn’t think about it. They didn’t talk about it. And no one else mentioned it either. Sammy found it eerie how well everyone skirted the subject. But he preferred it that way.

  “You sure you want me to come in with you?” Jeffie finally asked.

  “Vivi has to get used to being around you. I don’t want to put it off. Just be your normal … charming self.”

  “I’ve been told by certain people that I’m not charming. I’m energetic.”

  “Actually, I think the term was ‘high strung.’”

  Jeffie aimed a half-hearted elbow to Sammy’s side, which he dodged. “Will you please just tell me what’s in that stupid—”

  Sammy scooted the bag closer to him using his foot. “Nope. Secret.”

  “All right, then.” Jeffie stood and stretched. “Let’s do this.”

  Today, rather than reading, Vitoria was exercising. By the sheen of sweat covering her skin and matting her hair, Sammy guessed she’d been at it a while.

  “One-seventy-five,” she said through clenched teeth as she pulled herself into a tight crunch. “One-seventy-six.”

  Her stomach, and all her other muscles, were taut and strong. Her hair was a mess, and her eyes blazed a manic fire. “One-seventy-seven.”

  Despite knowing that Jeffie and Sammy were in the room, she did not stop until she reached two hundred. “What’s up, Sammy?” she asked as she transitioned into a new workout of lunges and twists.

  “Can we talk?” he asked.

  Vitoria glanced at Jeffie. “Sure. Talk.”