Mindlink (15 page)

The overweight one puffed and stabbed a finger at the forest.
“That’s where we practically killed ourselves to get to?”

“Why is it raining there but not here?” The tall human glanced
up to the dry sky of Kir Barsha and back to the Badramun as if to be sure his
eyes did not deceive him.

“The city is climate-controlled,”
One
explained. “The Telhada’s system cannot reach beyond the
perimeter.”

Instead of listening to the additional questions and grumbling
from the humans, he evaluated the fence. Bare ground lined the perimeter for
several meters on both sides, kept clear to delineate the breach point of the
invisible current.

Once he crossed the perimeter, he would be casting off his old
life irrevocably. He couldn’t return even if pardoned because he didn’t fit the
Telhada’s mold anymore, if he ever had. Unsettling to realize he couldn’t go
back, but not unwelcome.

“What are we waiting for?” Natalie asked.

One
surveyed the ragtag group. “The
pylons transmit a current similar to the one blocking the cell doors in the
Penal building. An attempt to step across the perimeter boundary will result in
death.”

The Redhead sent an image of climbing over one. He flinched,
then shook his head.

“Seriously?” Natalie squawked. “Then how can we leave?”

Rushing swept through the air.

A barge hovered into view from behind the train station. His
pulse spiked.
Fear
. He couldn’t let it distract
him.

Security. Five of them, eyes trained on the group and closing
in.

One
cursed.

The Redhead mumbled something incoherent. Then she met his
gaze, regret swimming deep in her eyes. “This is my fault, isn’t it? For begging
you to let us take the train.”

They both carried a portion of blame, which he communicated
through the link, and said, “The system is efficient. We must be smarter from
now on.”

The other female, Natalie, squeaked and The Redhead shouted at
the other males to band together into a tight circle. Natalie moved Neeko to the
center, protectively. The tall one hesitated. Then he rushed toward the
group.

Freddy dashed in the opposite direction of the barge, a crazed
look distorting his features.

The rapid movement drew Security’s attention, and in seconds,
the workers swung the barge around and hovered toward Freddy. He ran faster,
throwing glances over his shoulder. The cumbersome barge, better suited to royal
parades than pursuit, slowly closed the two hundred meter gap.

Unexpectedly, Freddy switched directions.

“No!”
One
shouted.

It was too late.

The human sprinted across the perimeter line and out of Kir
Barsha. Midstride, he thudded to the ground. His head lolled and a dark stream
trickled from his nose. Blood.

Something thick flowed into his throat. He choked it back. The
pylons operated exactly as he’d told them.

The workers swiveled their attention back to the rest of the
escaped prisoners and began tapping on their handhelds as the barge glided
closer. In a matter of minutes the workers would lock on their IDs.

They’d be killed where they stood and it would be his fault.
Just like Freddy. Hadn’t he made it clear they couldn’t pass the perimeter?

Natalie wept with loud sobs.

“Get her under control,” he snapped to The Redhead and picked
up Neeko with one arm. The others didn’t have time for his self-recrimination.
“We have to run.”

“We can’t outrun them!” Ashley said. Dark, fragmented chunks of
chaos hurled through the link. “We have to get through the fence. Is Freddy
dead?”

“Yes.”

Moisture sprang up along her lower lashes and sharp pronged
pain twisted through him. Her pain via the link, because she grieved the human?
Or his, because she hurt and he couldn’t eliminate it?

She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
“Can’t you turn the current off? Like if we steal one of those guy’s tappy
things?”

“No worker has that level of access. Only the High Chairman of
Security and a few others.” He shifted Neeko to the other arm and tightened his
grip. “We have to hurry. If they get close enough, they’ll connect with our
implants and then it will be too late.”

Confusion stole over Ashley’s face. “They can’t connect with
either of us though, right?”

“Are you mad? We have to run. Now!”

She shook her head, feet planted. “That’s why we didn’t get
zapped in the hallway outside of recycling, even though we were right in the
middle of all the workers. Right?”

His palm had already shot out to hustle her along when her
meaning registered. He froze.

Continuing, she said, “And outside the boy’s cell, we got right
up next to the opening, but it didn’t hurt. Isn’t that why? Because the octopus
can only connect with one thing at a time?” Her eyes darted back and forth
between him and the darkness over his shoulder. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” he said and something bright bloomed in his chest. A
human understood the Telhada’s technology better than he did. And now he would
use it to save the others.

“You.” He grabbed Natalie and lined her up face to face with
Neeko. “Link with each other.”

To Neeko, he said the same in Hahlan and patted the boy on the
shoulder when he lifted his terror-filled face, questioning whether such a thing
was necessary.
One
nodded and his stomach wrenched
when the boy’s eyes filled with tears. Neeko shook his head and squeezed his
lids shut in refusal.

Over his shoulder, he saw the barge had almost reached them. It
glided to a halt. Eager to bridge the distance to their quarry on foot, the
workers clamored at the exit, impatient for the stairway to descend.

They didn’t have time for Neeko to balk. But how could he force
the boy to do something so frightening? The Telhada preached so many lies about
implants, he might spend hours explaining the difference in linking with a
trained interrogator and a human.

He abandoned the idea.

“Go,” he shouted to the others but they were slow and not used
to exertion. Citizens, regardless of their placement, focused daily on health
and well-being, which gave the workers an advantage over the humans.

The workers broke into a sprint and surrounded the group,
handhelds high in warning. A single command would render the others unconscious.
Or dead, depending on the worker’s orders.

They had nowhere to hide and nowhere to run.

But
One
also had an advantage. The
workers didn’t know he and The Redhead were linked. Images flew between them,
jumbled and jagged, but one fact crystallized—the two of them could cross
through the pylons and the interface would fail. No one else could pass the
invisible line.

“Get behind me,” he said to the others, though he’d provide no
protection from a handheld. Perhaps his closer proximity would confuse its
protocol since it wouldn’t be able to lock on his ID.

At least there were only five workers.

Whooshing vibrated in his rib cage and another barge glided
into view, bearing the unmistakable crest of the Director of the Afterlife.

UBA
? Why? Presumably Security had
the situation well in hand and if their ability to produce results came into
question, the High Priest should never be the one called to assist. The strict
hierarchy among workers was not subject to alteration at the whim of even the
highest-ranked citizen on Alhedis.

The High Priest’s barge hovered to a halt. All five of the
workers looked to
UBA
as he descended the stairs.
They were acting on his orders, then. The situation grew stranger.

“Excellent work. Incapacitate those two and secure them on my
barge,” the High Priest said to the workers with a flick of his staff at the
tall one and the overweight doctor. “Dispose of the others.”

UBA
intended to take two of the
humans with him—humans
One’s
team had already
processed and from whom all scientific knowledge had been harvested. What
possible purpose could
UBA
have for them?

A half-formed plan materialized. Lower level workers had
limited access, but the High Priest did not.
One
sent The Redhead images in short bursts, adding details as they came to him. She
whispered to Natalie and the others out of the corner of her mouth.

He lunged into action before further analysis could give him
pause.

He crashed into
UBA
and caught the
High Priest in a tight bear hug, flung them both to the ground and rolled. Their
similar weight and build might have evened the odds but
One
had surprise and determination to his benefit.

At the perimeter, he released
UBA
and kept going. His world narrowed to this one singular act. His breath caught
as he rolled past the pylons and into the Badramun. Everything hinged on The
Redhead’s assessment of the implant’s functions and his faith in her quick
mind.

Needlelike pricks exploded behind his eyes. In that split
second, he prepared to die, to join with the Ancestors in the afterlife, where
he would beg for mercy in failing his charges.

One of The Redhead’s images from Earth sprang into his mind, of
a human wearing a cape and a tight uniform with an “S” on the chest.

Not
dead
. Alive. Pent-up breath hissed out. He threw
back his head to take in his position.

UBA
struggled to his feet and did a
double take when he saw
One
on the opposite side of
the perimeter. “How did you— The system is active. I don’t—” The High Priest’s
gaze swiveled back and forth between the dead human crumpled not four meters
away and
One
.
UBA
fumbled through his pocket.

“You may stop searching.”
One
raised his arm and uncurled his palm. The Director’s handheld lay on it.

UBA
stared at it and dug deeper
into his robes, snarling. He whirled back to the frozen workers. “This changes
nothing. Do as I said. Secure the Mora Tuwa.”

One
keyed in a sequence on the
Director’s handheld. “If you do not release the others, I will end the High
Priest’s life. I have his ID activated.”

The nearest worker’s gaze shifted between
One
and
UBA
. Hesitantly, he backed up.
Then, the others stepped away from the group of humans and Neeko. UBA’s face
grew enraged, but he made no move to stop them. “Now what do you plan to do,
ZXQ
? Starve in the Badramun instead of accepting
a civilized death?”

“No. I plan to absolve myself by saving these humans.”

“You have done nothing here except prolong the inevitable end
you will all come to, as well as hindering the good I would have done on behalf
of all citizens.”

On behalf of citizens? The High Priest’s allegiance was to the
Telhada. Or was it? Perhaps the king was not even aware of
UBA’s
presence and involvement here.

“Untimely death does not do citizens any good.” Without taking
his eyes off
UBA
,
One
said, “Ashley?”

The density of her proper name lingered on his tongue.

She dashed across the perimeter and stumbled. He caught her
with one arm, images flashing rapidly at him, too chaotic to comprehend. But she
was safe and only that mattered.

“I will deactivate the fence now,”
One
advised
UBA
. “Allow the others to
come through and do not impede them.”

He took his time searching for the correct menu and tapped the
command. “Come.”

“Capture him,”
UBA
shouted. “What
are you waiting for? Retrieve my handheld while the current is dead.”

All five workers sprang into motion.

Natalie and Neeko clasped hands and ran. First one, then the
other, toppled and went down hard, just shy of the pylons. Natalie leaped to her
feet but Neeko struggled, either hurt or too spent to stand again. Natalie tried
to lift the boy, but couldn’t.

The males, lost in self-preservation mode, didn’t stop until
they’d crossed the border.

One
sprinted to Neeko and tucked
him under an arm as the first two workers reached them. “Run,” he shouted to
Natalie.

Hands grabbed at
One
but he darted
away. A worker clamped onto Neeko’s leg and
One
ended up dragging him along as he pivoted back toward the fence. Natalie dove
through the pylons ahead of him.

“Release him,”
One
advised the
worker as they each tugged on their half of the boy.

One
had the advantage of momentum
and fell across the perimeter, Neeko on top of him. He swiped a fingertip across
the handheld’s screen.

The fence activated instantly. The worker still held Neeko’s
leg in a clawlike grip, but lay dead, half in Kir Barsha, half in the Badramun.
One
pulled Neeko free. The other workers backed
away as their proximity to the current grew painful.

UBA’s
nostrils flared. “You have
made a grave error,
ZXQ
. May the slow death you’ve
chosen give you ample time to reflect on your transgressions against the
Telhada.” He spun to stride toward the barge without another word.

One
couldn’t breathe, as if a stone
crushed his chest, preventing his lungs from expanding. He’d dragged a fellow
citizen to his death. A citizen, who had simply executed his duty, was dead.

Natalie helped Neeko stand.

“Follow me,” he said brusquely to the others.

He stood and led them into the forest, leaving Freddy and the
nameless worker to the elements, along with a part of himself he never thought
he’d lose. A part even the king’s sentence hadn’t stolen—his self-respect.