Terminal Point (21 page)

Yes?

I'm bringing you up here. Terrence is dead. Whatever was left in the walls killed him.

Well, shit.

The Class VI telepath gave Keiko a visual of the shuttle for the telekinetic to find her. Keiko reached for the Stryker over the distance between mountain and shuttle, teleporting the telepath to their position. Eva Collingsworth landed lightly on the road beyond the support ramp. She was a petite woman in her midtwenties; dark-haired, dark-eyed, with heavy scarring over the lower half of her face and throat. Her body didn't have the capability to accept biomodifications, and cellular regeneration had never worked for her. Eva had lost her voice when she was twelve. Telepathy was her only means of communication.

I'm not a psychometrist, Keiko,
Eva said, eyes narrowing with emotion that showed nowhere else on her face.
And Terrence is dead. What do you expect me to find?

Pretend you're trying to get something out of the hole in the mental grid,
Keiko said.
See if you can't possibly find out what killed him. Let me deal with the humans.

Eva inclined her head to the people in charge before closing her eyes.

“Eva is looking for answers,” Keiko said, turning to face Elion and not Nathan. “Telepaths aren't psychometrists, sir. Whatever was left behind by whatever rogue psion who was here, I don't know if Eva will find it.”

Elion glared at her. “We need answers, Stryker.”

“We're trying to get that for you,” Keiko said, sounding frustrated. “I don't know what killed Terrence, but if whatever it was is still embedded in these walls, then it's not safe.”

“I don't care if you think it's not safe. You're not in charge. Your contract was handed over to us and you have an obligation to obey the World Court.”

“I mean no disrespect, but the World Court hasn't issued a kill order for any Stryker here. Let us do the job you brought us here to do in order to keep you safe. Sir.”

Elion opened his mouth to argue, or perhaps to threaten to activate the neurotracker in her head, but Nathan interrupted whatever tirade the other man was about to indulge in.

“Elion,” Nathan said. “Let them do their job.”

Keiko kept her gaze trained on Eva. Her thoughts, however, were elsewhere.
Don't expect me to thank you.

For interceding on your behalf? Ciari was never one to play that sort of groveling game unless she had someone needing to be saved. I miss her begging.
Nathan kept his attention on the two Strykers.
Tell me, Keiko, how is Ciari?

Keiko had to force herself not to think about the changes in Ciari.
Tell me, Nathan, how does it feel to be backed into a corner by your son?

My family is of no concern to you.

You say that like I
don't
know Lucas hasn't been on your side for two years and counting,
Keiko said, a grim sort of satisfaction creeping through her mind.
You didn't order him to do this. You wouldn't, if this is what will feed you on Mars Colony.

What do you think you know about what I and the World Court have planned?

Security for the launch is why the government keeps us alive. You?
Keiko's mouth thinned into a bloodless line.
I don't read minds, Nathan.

Nathan's smile was faint and barely there, missed by everyone except Keiko. She saw it only because she was looking for it. Then Eva pulled her into a psi link, the telepath unaware of Nathan's presence, and Keiko had to focus on the mission.

Massive telepathic overload,
Eva said.
Memories don't do that. They can't. This feels more like a telepathic strike. The people who broke in might still be on the island.

Keiko looked over at Elion, weighing her options. She knew that if she attempted to change the playing field, Nathan would kill her. As a Class I triad psion, he could easily do it. The cleanup afterward—of bodies and mindwipes—would take time, but Nathan was a perfectionist and Keiko didn't doubt he'd find excuses to keep himself safe.

“Our telepath can't speak,” Keiko said. “And we aren't authorized for telepathic contact with either of you. Eva confirmed Terrence died from a strong telepathic attack.”

“What about the perpetrator?” Elion asked sharply.

Keiko didn't look at Nathan. “Unknown. Possibly the same rogue psions that were in Buffalo, but those particular psi signatures haven't shown up since the fight.”

“That is unacceptable, Stryker.”

“Unfortunately, it's all we have at the moment. Perhaps the security system—”

Elion let out a short, harsh laugh. “Don't you think we tried? That was the first thing we checked after confirming the breach. The security logs are inaccessible. It would take weeks to hack through the new encryption embedded in everything now. We don't have that long.”

Keiko looked down at Terrence's body and wrapped her power around his form. She teleported the corpse into their shuttle for transport.

“We should begin a transfer of everything in the seed bank, sir,” Keiko said. “We can't guarantee that the people who broke in won't return to take the rest.”

“These seeds and embryos and everything else require a specific temperature in order to survive. They can't be risked,” Elion said. “Considering it seems psions are responsible for this mess, I don't trust your involvement.”

“The World Court assigned them this job, but I agree with your assessment, Elion. We'll bring in as many cold-storage units as we need,” Nathan said. “We will physically transport everything to London.”

The better for you to keep it away from Lucas?
Keiko asked.

Do you honestly think I'll be protecting it from just him?

Images of the
Ark
from the pirate stream ran through Keiko's mind. She knew that society wasn't going to take such deceit lying down. Everyone's view of the world was changing, and change never came easy.

You'll do what the government requires of you and you'll die for it,
Nathan said.
But some of your Strykers will live, so keep your mouth shut.

“Take us back to the shuttle,” Nathan said, the look in his dark blue eyes curiously satisfied.

Keiko decided she should have brought an empath after all. Tapping into her power, she pulled everyone into a teleport.

 

PART FIVE

Fluctuate

 

 

SESSION DATE
: 2128.03.25

LOCATION
: Institute of Psionics Research

CLEARANCE ID
: Dr. Amy Bennett

SUBJECT
: 2581

FILE NUMBER
: 270

Aisling hums again. The sound is an offbeat melody that clashes with the noise the EEG and supporting machines make behind her as she leans over the seat of her chair and stares at the camera. She is alone.

“I can see what it's going to be like and I think that scares them.”

Her head hangs down, her hair falling around her face like a curtain. The wires lay heavily across her back.

“It scares me.” She kicks her legs a bit, smacking the toes of her shoes against the ground. “Everyone's afraid of me. I don't have any friends here.”

Aisling waves one small hand at the camera in a vague gesture before she props herself back up on both hands. Then she sighs and collapses again over the chair. She scratches at a line of electrodes adhered across her forehead and pushes wires out of her face.

“It could have been different, and it is, but then it wouldn't end. Mama said it should end.” Aisling glances at the camera, her gaze looking past it. “I don't want Nathan, Marcheline. I need his son.”

 

TWENTY-FOUR

SEPTEMBER 2379
TORONTO, CANADA

“Threnody.”

She opened her eyes slowly, staring at her knees. She knew that voice.

Slowly, achingly, Threnody lifted her head enough to see the woman standing in front of her. For a moment, Threnody thought she was dreaming. Gone was the dark brown hair, shaved off completely for the surgery the older woman must have gone through. Harsh red lines still laced the skin of her skull, and her eyes were like empty holes in her face. She wore soft-looking black pants and a gray, long-sleeved shirt. She looked as if she had lost weight.

Ciari looked fragile.

Threnody sniffed loudly. Her nose itched from all the dried blood inside it. “Never saw you out of uniform before.”

“I've never seen a Stryker without a neurotracker still breathing,” Ciari said.

“Liar.” Threnody smiled, the corners of her mouth cracking. Her lips were dry.

Someone had brought another chair into Threnody's cell while she was unconscious. Ciari sat down in it and laced her hands together in her lap. She stared at Threnody with a heavy, unblinking gaze that was hard to meet. Something was off about the way the older woman acted, and it made Threnody uneasy.

“I'm not giving you up to the World Court,” Ciari said after a moment.

“That's not really a kindness.”

“You took my daughter. It's not about kindness.”

Threnody rolled her head from side to side, trying to ease the heavy ache in her shoulders. The motion brought a wave of nausea, but she managed to not throw up this time. She stank enough as it was. She hadn't eaten since being teleported in, but she'd been given some sips of water. It wasn't enough to sooth the parchedness in her mouth. Swallowing, Threnody stopped moving so her stomach would settle. The pressure in her head was all mental trauma, but Lucas's shield was still standing. She assumed it was the only reason she was still alive.

“Her father wanted full custody, not visiting rights,” Threnody said. “Sorry.”

“Lucas is making a mess of things.”

“So, no more pretending?” Threnody let out a heavy sigh, flexing her fingers. The rubber gloves made her skin itch. She couldn't stretch her arms, not with her wrists cuffed to the chair, and her joints felt tight. “I would have kept your secret.”

“Jael already knows. She was keeping it safe. How did you find out where we were keeping her?”

“The Syndicate trained me as a tactician, remember? I took the details we had and came up with the best possible scenario.”

“Was releasing information about the
Ark
your idea?”

“I'm just a soldier, Ciari. All I do is follow orders.”

“No, you aren't. And, no, you don't.”

Threnody licked her lips and chuckled softly. “Never was very good at lying about how I felt.”

Ciari nodded agreement. “It's what got you into this mess in the first place. I never wanted to send you on that mission to the Slums.”

“You were just following orders, right?”

“I won't apologize for my actions.”

“I know,” Threnody said quietly. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“The world knows about the launch now. About the
Ark.
The World Court is pushing up the launch date, which means we Strykers have only got days left to live.”

Threnody stared at her, not liking the toneless way Ciari was speaking. Her voice had no emotion, not even the coldness that came with an empath's rigid control. She was just—empty.

“What can I say that will make you believe there's a way out of this?” Threnody said. “That the Strykers don't have to die like animals?”

“Belief requires faith. I have none.”

Threnody flinched. “I learned to.”

“You aren't the first to make that mistake.” Ciari pushed herself to her feet and approached Threnody. “You won't be the last. But mistakes are what make us human.”

Ciari unlocked first one cuff, then the other. Threnody stared blankly down at her freed hands.

“Lie down and get some rest, Threnody. We aren't done fighting yet.”

Ciari walked out of the cell without looking back. Threnody slowly pulled her arms free of the cuffs and stretched them, groaning as stiff muscles protested the movement. She peeled off the rubber gloves, tossing them away. Then she leaned over to undo the cuffs around her ankles, hissing as the ache in her ribs got sharper. She pulled the rubber boots off her feet before carefully sliding out of the chair. Her aching ribs protested the movement, but Threnody still lay down on the cold metal floor, fingers of one hand curled over the collar wrapped around her throat, the bioware tipped needles digging deep into her skin and vertebrae. She still obeyed the order given to her.

Threnody closed her eyes to block out the light, and slept.

 

TWENTY-FIVE

SEPTEMBER 2379
THE HAGUE, THE NETHERLANDS

Sharra knew what it meant when the pirate stream hit the world press and society was unable to look away. She paused in front of the vidscreen long enough to watch it all the way through once. Then she retreated to the bunker suite she called home and began to pack.

They were on a schedule that Erik had been keeping to over the past few years. It was easy for her to go through that mental list and see exactly where she was in packing up her life.

“Mama, what are these boxes for?” Lillian asked.

Kneeling, surrounded by heavy cargo trunks, Sharra craned her head around to watch as her daughter walked into the bedroom. “They aren't boxes, sweetie. They're for storage.”

“What are you storing?”

Her perfectly human daughter climbed onto a trunk, sitting on the lid. She was dressed in her school uniform, the jacket slung over a chair in the kitchen. Sharra had left Lillian there eating cookies under the watchful eye of a soldier while the movers rattled around the suite of rooms.