by Jade Kerrion
“This isn’t my—”
“Problem?”
“I was going to say path.”
“What’s holding you back from embarking on a new path? Your distrust of the government and the military in general, or of the Mutant Assault Group in particular? Or maybe it’s your rigid morality.”
Danyael’s jaw dropped. “My rigid morality?”
Reyes wagged a finger in Danyael’s face. “There is nothing inherently sacred about life, nothing righteous about the act of healing, just like there’s nothing inherently evil about killing.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It’s not that complicated. Your motives ascribe morality to your actions. That’s it. Don’t overanalyze it.” Reyes laughed, a short and ironic sound. “You’re an empath. Trust your feelings.”
Danyael answered through clenched teeth. “I do.”
“So what’s stopping you from making the right decision that is going to save lives on multiple levels, the lives of the alpha telepaths who were clearly outclassed, and the men and women who don’t have to die for their country because the super soldiers will, instead?” Reyes’s brown eyes blazed. “Or do you save lives only on your terms, whatever the hell they are?”
Danyael’s anger flared, cold and dark, in spite of his attempt to control it. “I pay the price for my mutant powers, so yes, damn it, I decide when and why to use them.”
Reyes raised his eyebrows. “So what inspired you to save Galahad, even though you knew it could cost you your freedom, which it did? He’s out there, living free and easy under Lucien’s protection. Was he worth saving?”
I saved him because Zara loved him. Had Galahad been worth saving, though? Danyael no longer had an answer for the second question.
Reyes pushed on. “What makes Galahad any different from those super soldiers? They’re both lab-created. In fact, he’s less of a known entity than these super soldiers. You heard the professor. The researchers from Pioneer Labs started with the concept of perfection, and in the process, they created abominations and Galahad. You don’t know what went into his genes, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt anyway. Why? Because he looks like an angel sent from heaven? Because he looks like you?”
The emotion behind Reyes’s words coiled like a whip around Danyael. He clenched his teeth against its stinging impact. “This isn’t about Galahad. Sadgati took human genes and altered them—”
“Enhanced them.”
“Reyes, do you understand what she did? She added speed, strength, endurance, and animal instincts. She removed inhibition. She took human beings and turned their genetic legacy into that of animals that no one can control. That is not enhancement. How can the general be party to this madness?”
“He’s trying to save lives, the lives of his people and the lives of Americans, just as he saved your life at Aspen. The council would have sent you back to ADX, but the general brought you back to his headquarters. He has protected you, at significant risk to his reputation and his unit.” Reyes pressed the palm of his hand against his forehead. “God, I wish you could see it as clearly as I do. You and the general are so much more alike than you think.”
“I don’t trust him.”
Reyes stared wordlessly at Danyael for several minutes. When the silence grew long and painful, he pressed his lips together and nodded. The impatience in his voice gave way to quiet reflection. “I wish I’d met you before your friends wrecked your faith in people.”
Reyes turned and walked away.
Damn it. The cold comfort of knowing that he was right provided little defense against the scorching loss of Reyes’s friendship and trust. Danyael braced against the hollow ache as he shifted his focus inward. Miriya?
She too was silent, conspicuously absent.
CHAPTER TEN
May 3—International Celebrity Watch: It’s hot in Dubai this time of year, but temperatures kicked up several notches yesterday after Galahad checked into the Royal Suite at the Burj Al Arab. It’s his first visit to the desert emirate, and both fans and protestors turned out in force to celebrate/damn his arrival, take your pick…
In the privacy of her suite at the Mutant Affairs Council headquarters at Alexandria, Virginia, Xin pulled up the file containing the names of Galahad’s templates and struck another name off the list: Abdul Azim, a resident of Deira, had been killed in a car accident the day after Galahad’s arrival in Dubai. He was number twenty-four on the list.
~*~
Several miles away, at the Mutant Assault Group headquarters in Arlington Ridge, Danyael completed a difficult physical therapy session and sat to wrap athletic tape around his injured leg. He could feel Jana’s gaze boring into his back.
“You need to eat better.” Her voice was clipped and cool.
“I know.” Danyael saw little point in telling her that he could not.
He had not seen Reyes since the old man walked away from him after their disagreement almost eight weeks earlier. He had not seen or spoken to the general, either. The warm acceptance and gratitude of the soldiers on the base had transformed into cool indifference. The latter he could handle—it was the standard reaction generated by the repulsive effects of his psychic shields—but he usually had a friend to counterbalance the near-universal disdain. For sixteen years, Lucien had played that role, but no longer. Reyes Maddox had briefly filled the emptiness, and then he walked away too. That time, Danyael only had himself to blame. I drove him away.
The emotional isolation was, ironically, worse than being in prison. At ADX, the physical torture kept him from dwelling on his wrenching emotional pain. At the Mutant Assault Group headquarters where he was physically safe and cared for, his emotional anguish transformed into crippling physical symptoms. He scarcely slept at night, kept awake by alternating fever and chills. His persistent nausea made eating and drinking nearly impossible. The constant physical discomfort he could handle; the need for emotional connection he could not.
Even Miriya was silent.
Danyael leaned heavily on his crutch and limped from the physical therapy center, his pace slow. He was hungry but could not work up an appetite for his pre-packaged frozen dinner. He had stopped eating at the cafeteria, had stopped going anywhere except to and from Jana’s office. Danyael paused outside the door of his suite and reached for his key card.
A voice called out from behind him. “Danyael.”
He turned slowly to conceal his surprise. How had she been able to sneak up on him? Just how tired am I? “Major Chandler.”
She tilted her head to the side and sighed. “Amanda.”
“What can I do for you, Major?”
She shook her head. Her blond hair, gathered up in a non-regulation ponytail, swayed. “Yup, stubborn. It says so in your personality profile.” She paused, studying him. Her tone softened. “I just came from Carson’s office—”
“Is something wrong?”
“No, it was just a routine physical. I saw you leave the physical therapy center and wondered if you would be interested in having dinner.”
“Dinner’s waiting for me.” He nudged his head toward the closed door of his suite.
“You’re being deliberately obtuse. I meant together.”
“Major, I—”
“If I had a dollar for every time you called me Major, I’d be—”
“Still poor, because I don’t have a penny to my name.”
Her smile wavered. “Look, if you don’t want to eat in the cafeteria, that’s fine. I’ll go grab something and bring it back up here.”
“Why would you—”
“I can feel your pain leaking out past your psychic shields and through mine. If you don’t like dealing with weepy females, you’d better say yes, and fast.”
“I wouldn’t know what to do with a weepy female.”
“Best not to push your luck then.” She looped an arm through his and guided him away from his suite.
The cafeteria was crowded and difficult to naviga
te on a crutch, but she helped him with his tray, and they found two seats at a long table. The moment they sat, the soldiers seated around them picked up their half-eaten meals and walked away. Amanda scowled and cast Danyael a quizzical look. “Do I smell bad or something? I showered this morning, I swear.”
Danyael chuckled, appreciating her attempt at levity. “Aren’t you concerned about being seen with me?”
She arched an eyebrow. “I’ll get promoted on my own merits, whether or not my subordinates, peers, or superiors approve of my choice of company. They may not like the choice you’ve made, but I don’t think they should conveniently blank out the fact that many of us owe you our lives.”
Danyael picked up his fork but otherwise made no pretense of eating. “And you?”
“I wish you’d change your mind. We need you in the program; no question about it.”
“And the general sent you to talk me into it?”
She set down her fork, leaned forward, and glared at him. “I know they say everyone has a price, but mine is a smidgen higher than promotion to lieutenant colonel. No, he didn’t send me. I’m here because I ran into you in the corridor. Look, we don’t have to talk about the super soldier program at all.”
“Ignore the elephant in the room? That doesn’t seem to be your style.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How would you know my style? You barely know me. You’ve been avoiding anything that resembles human contact for the past six weeks.”
“Human contact has been avoiding me.”
“The social contract goes both ways.”
He searched for a safe topic they could talk about and found none. Gritting his teeth, he took the plunge. “Why did you choose to join the assault group when you had your choice of any military division?”
“It welcomed me. The military had a better handle on managing racial equality, but they’re not so good with genetic superiority. Most people want, instinctively, to be fair—Americans especially so—but it’s a fact that humans just aren’t as good as derivatives. Being ‘fair’ is an injustice to the derivatives when we contribute more, when we are more. In the assault group, I’ll never have to second-guess if I was held back from an assignment or a promotion just because I am a mutant.”
“I’m glad you found a place to belong.”
“And you haven’t. Why?” She tilted her head as she asked the question. Her blue eyes narrowed, the gleam flinty. “You keep trying to find a place among the humans.”
“We’re all human.”
She folded her arms on the table. “You’d believe that, of course.”
“Are you a human or are you a green, pointy-eared alien from Mars? You’re focused on differences that don’t have to be differences.”
“Your empathic powers have isolated you from others. Of all people, you should know that we are different.”
Danyael shook his head. “And we’ll always be different if we don’t try to close to gap.”
She leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms across her chest. “Unbelievable. What have you been smoking or drinking?”
Danyael’s smile was faint and devoid of humor. “Blame it on my training.”
“The training from the Mutant Affairs Council, the same group that went on to screw you over royally?”
“There is nothing wrong with their philosophy.”
“They don’t believe what they preach. Locking you away as a class-five criminal is a statement that they don’t believe you’re normal, and they don’t think you ever can be.”
He lowered his gaze. The truth, though long acknowledged, still triggered a dull ache.
Her tone softened. “How do you deal with it?”
“All my life I’ve had to separate how people act toward me from what they would have done if my mutant powers didn’t screw up their emotions. It’s not their fault.”
“And it’s yours? Whatever happened to their personal responsibility and accountability?”
He sighed, more motion than sound. “I don’t let everyone off scot-free. Take Alex, for example.”
“Alex Saunders? Director general of the Council?”
Danyael nodded. Anger, edging close to fury, simmered beneath his flawless control. “Alex knew what would happen if I was ever placed in a situation where I couldn’t maintain my psychic shields, but he sent me to ADX anyway.”
“Why didn’t anyone stop him?”
“Who would have?” Certainly not Zara, and Lucien no longer cared. Bitterness infused his tone, and he gritted his teeth as he tightened his control over his emotions.
Amanda sighed. “You shouldn’t have to be the only one watching out for you. That’s why I’m a part of a team. Knowing that someone has your back, that someone’s going to cover for you when you run out into a hail of bullets, that’s worth everything.” She hesitated before reaching out to cover his hand with hers. “You should never have to go through life alone.”
Her head snapped up suddenly. Her blue eyes widened.
Had some kind of silent command passed through telepathic channels? Danyael glanced around the cafeteria as alarm surged through the soldiers. Their alarm spiked into fear. Panic was contained only by military discipline. Soldiers scrambled from their seats and raced out of the cafeteria.
Amanda shot to her feet. She picked up his crutch and shoved it at him. “We have to get out of here.”
“What?” He followed her. They were the last to leave the cafeteria.
“We have to evacuate.” She grabbed his arm, moving him along as quickly as he could manage on a crippled leg.
“What’s going on?”
Amanda shook her head. Her teeth clenched, her jaw was tight with tension. “Just move.”
With the other soldiers, they gathered in the courtyard where the general stood, calm and in control. “Divert power from all generators to the electric fence. We can’t let them get out of the compound.” He glanced at another aide. “Is everyone accounted for?”
The general’s aide, an alpha telepath, closed his eyes. His expression was abstracted, as if he were listening to voices only he could hear. “Yes, sir,” he reported after several seconds.
“Good. Teams two and three, you’re on the perimeter. Six and seven, you’re going in.”
“Yes, sir.”
Danyael glanced around sharply. “Where is Reyes?”
The general looked at his aide. The aide shook his head, his cheeks flushed. “I…I can’t sense him, and he’s not on our telepathic channels.”
“He may still be in the building,” Amanda muttered.
Danyael limped forward to confront the general. “And what else is inside?”
“A cohort of super soldiers broke away from their trainers, escaped from the arena, and found their way to the main building.”
And Reyes was in there. Damn it. “I’m going in.”
“Danyael—” The general frowned and then seemed to change his mind. He pulled out his service pistol and pressed it into Danyael’s hand.
Danyael stared at the pistol with mild bemusement and gave it back to the general. “I can take care of myself. How large is the cohort?”
“Ten. The teams can go with you.”
“No, it’s safer if they don’t.”
Amanda grabbed an assault rifle from a soldier and slung it over her shoulder. “I’m coming.”
“No—”
“Yes.” She caught his wrist and waited until he met her gaze. Her blue eyes were intent. “You need someone to watch your back.”
Danyael glared at her. She arched her eyebrow, a smile on her lips. In that moment, she reminded him of Zara—cool arrogance married to indomitable will. He knew when he was faced with a battle he could not win. “Fine.”
They entered the building together. The glass doors slid shut behind them, and armed Mutant Assault Group soldiers lined up on the far side of the door. “Back up,” Amanda explained. “They’ll come if we call for them.”
Danyael hurried down the corri
dor. “Are you attack- or defense-class?”
“Defense, like you, but my range is slightly longer than yours.”
“Enough to track Reyes?”
Amanda shook her head. “Reyes’s shields are almost as strong as yours, and you’re a psychic ghost. No one can track you when your shields are up.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think either of us has the range to know if the super soldiers are close by until they’re practically on top of us.”
“Let’s just find Reyes. Once we get him out, the general can come up with a better plan for tracking and hunting down the super soldiers.” He pressed the elevator button, gritting his teeth as the lighted numbers flashed down with agonizing slowness. The elevator chimed and the door opened. Danyael and Amanda stepped into the elevator. She did not take her hand off the trigger of the assault rifle, not even when the door closed and the elevator started moving. Her breathing was measured and steady, but he sensed the fear she kept tightly under wraps. He would have channeled peace to calm her, except that he had precious little of it to spare.
Reyes was alone without any weapons or mutant powers to protect him.
If I had worked with the super soldiers, I could have controlled them. This would never have happened.
The elevator arrived at the second floor. Danyael limped out of the elevator before the doors fully opened. Without the normal bustle of movement and conversation, the corridors that he traveled along every day were unfamiliar, even threatening. The quiet tapping of his crutch against the tiled floor seemed excessively loud.
“Move aside,” Amanda ordered, her voice low. She shifted her assault rifle, pulled out her key card, and swiped it through the security console that controlled access to Reyes’s suite. The red light flashed to green.
