Mind Storm (9 page)

“The Serca Syndicate has pursued the Genome Privacy Act for the past few decades since the first clean generation was granted approval by the government to join the Registry in 2329. Those of us who have been lucky enough to remain free of mutation in any form have a duty to save the less fortunate. We must strive with everything we have to better the lives of those who still suffer from our past failures. To do that, we must first study where we went wrong, and the psions are the most prominent mistake that we have.

“The World Court ruled in favor of the Serca Syndicate today. They gave this company the approval to keep our work private for the sake of the average citizen. We all have our secrets, some more than most, and while we are a people now who uphold truth above all else, sometimes there is a need for secrecy. That is why this Act was granted, to allow those who never got the government's approval to join the Registry an answer to a most pertinent question. What, after all this time, taints their DNA, but not others? It is a question that everyone knows better than to ask, because some things are just too personal for public consumption.”

Nathan leaned forward a little, the shine in his dark blue eyes that of reflective camera glare, not inspecs. “What's not personal, and which will be presented once we have solid findings, is our results. It may take ten years, twenty, another generation or even two, before we figure out how the psions are being born and why some people remain immune to the mutations brought about by the Border Wars and others do not. But rest assured, we
will
find out. To spare those the stigma that comes with being unregistered in our society, participation in this project will remain private. It has to if we are to have any chance of getting enough people to help us find the answers we are all looking for. Now, I will take some questions.”

“Sir,” a tall reporter called out as he stood up. “Where will you be getting the samples? Are you restricting your company to just one or two continents, or all of them?”

“There will be a broad representation of subjects pulled from every continent that carries survivors, both registered and unregistered,” Nathan answered. “They won't just be from the livable areas. We'll send excursions into the areas around the deadzones as well.”

“Sir,” another reporter asked. “Where will the psions factor into this?”

“We're still coordinating with the government on that.”

“What about the rumors that your eldest son doesn't approve of the direction you're taking the Serca Syndicate and that you've heavily restricted his access to all your current projects?”

Nathan's expression didn't change as he looked at the reporter who had asked that question, a slim Chinese woman of slight stature. “My family is off-limits.”

“Lucas Serca hasn't been seen for two years.”

“Contrary to rumor, my eldest is currently helping gather the samples we'll need to perform this research and has been for many months now. His appearance before your cameras is unnecessary. Next question.”

The ten agreed-upon questions passed quickly, Nathan's answers memorized rhetoric. Once the last question was asked and answered, Nathan left the podium for the side door, ignoring the clamoring behind him for more of his attention. Coming out into a secured hallway, he was quickly joined by his bodyguards and last two functioning children.

Neither Samantha nor Gideon met his eyes as they fell into step behind Nathan. They had changed out of their BDUs into sharp designer attire for the press conference, even though they hadn't been allowed before the cameras. Appearances were everything, especially in the public domain.

I despise failure,
Nathan said into all their minds, the incredible force of his Class I triad strength peeling apart their shields like rotten fruit.
You know better than to return empty-handed.

Lucas has never been an easy target,
Samantha said carefully as they were escorted down the hallway to the private lift.
He knew we were coming.

I do not tolerate excuses, Samantha.

Sir.

Lucas left the Slums with Strykers,
Gideon said as the door to the lift slid open and the group stepped onto the platform.

Nathan's face was impassive as he pressed his hand against the control panel. The computer read his biometrics and granted him access to the tower levels restricted to the Serca family alone and the people they owned. The lift began its ascent.

I'm beginning to think that Lucas doesn't want to live,
Nathan said.

It was just the three of them and two Warhounds in the guise of bodyguards on the ride up. One of them was biting on an ever-present cigarette, the smoke curling up toward the ceiling. Areas of Jin Li's skin still carried bruises that looked like burns, imprints from someone else's power his body had barely been able to counteract. He hadn't gone through medical yet because they'd been ordered to attend Nathan immediately upon their arrival back in London.

“Do we finally have a kill order, boss?” Jin Li asked.

The lift came to a stop and Nathan's answer, while without words, was unmistakable. Already in their minds, Nathan drove his power deeper between one heartbeat and the next as he stepped off the lift.

The agony of the intrusion drove all three to the floor, the last bodyguard stepping out of the lift and standing at attention with a distant look on his face that every Warhound learned to master by his or her first year in the ranks. Punishment was handed out indiscriminately. Warhounds learned to ignore it when it happened to the person next to them and suffered through it silently when it was their turn. Protesting was considered a waste of breath. So was screaming.

Samantha felt her head hit the floor, the dull ache of it distant and irrelevant against the immediate presence of Nathan deep in her mind. Instinctively, she tried to gather her power into some semblance of defense, but Nathan broke her control with a single thought. Her mind caved beneath his, as it had so many times before. Samantha could do nothing but stare blankly at the open doors of the lift, feeling the coolness of the metal she was lying on seep into the skin of her face as Nathan took from all of them memories of the events he felt he needed.

She could feel the channels in her mind where her power flowed begin to bleed through where they shouldn't. She took in a shaky breath, tasting blood in the back of her throat. Beside her, writhing just as desperately, Gideon and Jin Li struggled to breathe.

Lucas will learn his place,
Nathan said as he walked away.
Unfortunately, I can't be the one to drag him back to his knees. I can't afford the damage it might cause to my health and to our political position. I expected more from all of you. It seems my faith in all my children was misplaced.

Oddly enough, Samantha felt shame; shame that she hadn't been enough, that she never could be, because she hadn't been born that way. She wasn't what Nathan needed; never would be. Lucas hadn't been his answer either, but he'd been close, and that's why they still hunted for him. Samantha was just an afterthought, and not a good one. She, Gideon, and Kristen still performed their duties because their being alive meant Nathan could delegate. It meant he could live just a little longer. One of these days, if Samantha was lucky, she was going to wake up and he would be gone, dead, mind burned away by his power and body broken. It was how all psions died, she just hoped she lived long enough to see it happen to him.

I see your filial piety is as touching as always, Samantha.

She felt it when Nathan exited her mind, like the shattering of glass. Only she knew she could put the pieces back together, given enough time. Pressing her hand against the side of her skull, she sniffed wetly, sucking up blood through her nasal passages. Carefully, she wiped it away on the sleeve of her crisply pressed gray blouse.

Get up.

They stumbled to their feet, staggering out of the lift and into the private space that belonged to the Serca family. Five levels of residential rooms and offices and five more above that no lift could reach, because those levels were accessible only by stairs.

The Serca family had always been a buffer between the rest of the world and the Warhounds, more so here in that psion group's unofficial headquarters than anywhere else. The Serca Syndicate was a human endeavor, founded and controlled by psions who masqueraded as human in the public eye because that's what everyone expected. A prestigious company owned by a family with a prominent place in history wouldn't dare harbor rogue psions. People who discovered or were offered the truth were simply mindwiped until they were useful, or killed.

Samantha and Gideon collapsed gingerly into the available seats in Nathan's office once they arrived. Jin Li, used to Nathan's lashing out viciously, propped himself up against the credenza. Nathan's desk terminal was keyed to his biometrics alone, and it snapped on at the first touch of his fingers as he sat down behind it. He said nothing, simply brought everything online, images and data drifting across the opaque console attached to ancient wood.

The door to his office slid open and a static, human mind pressed up against Samantha's shields. She swallowed her disgust and it tasted like blood. Samantha had never cared for the humans Nathan showed special interest in, especially the ones he fucked.

“You're late, Dalia,” Nathan said.

“Apologies, sir,” the brunette woman said as she crossed the office to take the last seat.

Dalia would never be described as pretty, but she was striking given the right identity to inhabit. Right now she was wearing the drab uniform of an Eastern European bond worker, someone who would take any job, so long as it paid. The stretch of surviving countries that once belonged to Russia weren't wanted by Western Europe and were shunned by what remained of their former mother country. Shantytowns outnumbered civilized city towers, and people survived in those places only through the skin trade, be it labor, sex, or the sale of body parts and organs. The deadzones there were nearly as bad as the ones the Middle East had become.

Dalia, however, was not a bond worker.

She met Nathan's gaze unwaveringly when few people could. She was human, a static mind to his vast senses, but what she lacked in mental capacity she more than made up for with her hacking skills and Syndicate loyalty. She was Nathan's pet, yes; a decent fuck on the side; but more important, she was his way into the inner sanctum of the government-controlled scientists. Bioscanners could differentiate between a psion and a human, and no official in the world would knowingly let a psion into government-restricted areas.

Dalia pulled a data chip from the pocket of her uniform and slid it across the desk to Nathan. “We have a problem.”

He picked it up telekinetically and loaded it into his terminal with a flick of mental power. The hologrid that snapped into view between them hung heavy with a security feed that showed Lucas, in a bond worker's uniform, infiltrating the plant that Dalia had been sent to six months ago. The plant developed the Serca Syndicate's software and hardware, some of which had been held back from public use not because it wasn't ready, but because the Serca family hadn't been willing to give it all up. Nathan's mother had bargained with the government quite a bit when she'd been alive. Thanks to her persistence, the World Court wanted those computer programs, and Marcheline had made them pay for it. Nathan refused to let his family's success be marred by anything.

In the security feed, Lucas tipped his head back, looked directly into the recording device, and smiled, as if he wanted to be seen, before disappearing in a teleport. A visual
fuck you
that wouldn't go over well with the public if that feed got out.

Nathan stared hard at the image of his son, letting the feed replay three times before he finally leaned back in his chair. “When was this taken?”

“Last week,” Dalia said. “I've deleted the file from every available hard drive and from the servers supporting that particular security grid.”

Nathan's gaze settled heavily on his other children. “This is exactly why I want him brought back.”

Samantha willed herself not to look away from her father's gaze. “It's been two years and your Warhounds have employed every known method to retrieve him. We are
trying
. Sir.”

“Then apparently you need to open up that mind of yours and try harder. Lucas is planning something and he's spent at least two years laying down the groundwork for it.” Nathan gestured at the vidfeed. “This isn't the first time he's infiltrated our satellite branches and stolen data. I am getting
tired
of waiting for Lucas to show his hand when
our
goal is to cut off his head. We can't afford interference, not when we're so close to the launch date.”

“What would you have us do?” Gideon asked.

Nathan was silent as he watched the vidfeed one last time. “Two years of teleporting around the planet, interacting with Warhounds and Strykers alike, and only now he takes hostages? The Strykers didn't give up those psions, whoever they were. Ciari didn't request a retrieval. I want to know which Strykers Lucas took and I want that information as soon as it's been confirmed, along with an updated report on everything Lucas has taken from this company. Gideon, that is your task. Dalia, we're going to stage two of our plan. I want the agents you've been working with terminated. You can find new ones.”

Dalia inclined her head in silent acknowledgment of that order.

Nathan's heavy gaze settled on Samantha. “I'm sending you to Spain for the oil transfer that the government has scheduled. You're taking Kristen as backup.”

Kristen, his youngest child, was sixteen, a Class III empath, unregistered and insane. She was a mistake that Nathan kept around because she was still useful. Crazy, vicious, and difficult to control, but useful.