Double Helix Collection: A Genetic Revolution Thriller

by Jade Kerrion

  But I sent you to ADX.

  No, Alex Saunders sent me to ADX. You got me through it. Danyael smoothed over the sharp edges of her guilt. You saved me.

  As far as I’m concerned, I’m still working on that.

  Danyael chuckled, low and amused. Suit yourself. You let me know when you figure that out, but you’ll forgive me if I don’t hold my breath. I don’t need saving, not anymore. I’m all right.

  One day, he figured, it might even be true.

  The doorbell chimed, and a moment later, the lock clicked and the door open. He sat up and limped out of his bedroom. Amanda, slim and lovely in a white blouse and gray skirt that showed off her shapely legs, stepped into his suite and shut the door behind her. She slipped her key card back into her pocket and set down a small paper bag on the table. “I heard you missed dinner, so I brought you something to eat.”

  “Thank you.” An easy smile flashed across his face, and he held out his arms to her.

  She stepped into his embrace. Her slim form felt solid and warm. Her blond hair was silky, fragrant with the scent of rosemary and mint. She relaxed, snuggling against him. Gently, he tipped her chin up and leaned down to kiss her.

  Their lips brushed; the taste of her was sweet and familiar. He deepened the kiss as his empathic powers coiled around her, fulfilling her every emotional need.

  “Hmm, I think you might be hungry for something else.” Amanda’s voice was a husky whisper. Her blue eyes were smoky, dazed with desire. She eased back from Danyael, took his hand, and led him to the bedroom. “And I know exactly what you want.”

  ~*~

  The next day, Danyael stood in the middle of the arena, silent and still as a statue. All the time he had invested in the super soldiers over the past eight weeks came down to that one moment. He glanced at Amanda who stood beside him. “Are you ready?”

  She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  For some reason Danyael never figured out, everyone in the Mutant Assault Group, other than the general, had started addressing him as “sir.” Amanda used the salutation as a joke. The others did not. His protestations that he had no rank and that he wasn’t even a part of the military had no effect. His private appeal to the general to put a halt the misuse of the title elicited only an amused smile from the general.

  “Consider it a term of respect,” the general had said in response. “You’ll get used to it.”

  Danyael had not, but he did not have the energy to pursue something so minor, when his focus was on understanding and working with the super soldiers. He looked up and signaled to the observers in the control booth overlooking the arena. The steel door on the left side of the arena opened, and the super soldiers poured into the arena, all fifty of them.

  The vast space seemed to shrink. Amanda shifted, moving closer to Danyael.

  Danyael shot her an amused glance. “It’s all right.”

  Her voice was thin and pitched low. “I’ve never controlled more than one before. I can’t do this.”

  “We’re not trying to control them. Just relax and follow my lead.”

  “It’s not going to work.”

  Scar prowled at the leading edge, physically closer to Danyael and Amanda than any of the others. Scar cast a narrow-eyed glance at Amanda and made a hooting sound.

  Danyael chuckled ruefully. Scar’s snort was as derogatory as the emotions behind them.

  A dull grinding sound echoed through the arena as another steel door slid open to release a swarm of attack drones, bristling with weapons. The drones, approximately fifteen feet from wing tip to wing tip, hovered by the entrance for several seconds before accelerating to attack.

  “Release them,” Amanda ordered, a thin veil of panic in her voice.

  Danyael infused calm to take the edge off the super soldiers’ escalating tension. They howled, shuffling in place. He ground his teeth as he fought to control them. “Amanda, stop. You’re making it harder than it needs to be. Get out of the arena.”

  Her eyes widened. “But you need me to communicate with the soldiers.”

  “You’re not communicating. You’re stressing them out.”

  The general’s voice spoke over the intercom. “Step out, Major. We’ll let Danyael handle this round alone.”

  Amanda’s emotions flashed—anger overtook fear—but she left the arena, taking her emotions with her. Danyael released his breath in a sigh of relief and turned his attention to the threat of the approaching drones. Scar lumbered forward with ponderous grace to stand by Danyael’s side. The super soldier looked back at his comrades. As if responding to his unspoken command, they too moved forward, fanning out in a semicircle to surround Danyael.

  The drones swiveled when the soldiers closed in. The machines opened fire, striking their targets with devastating accuracy. As some soldiers fell back, howling in pain, others leapt to attack. Danyael limped forward, his heart and mind open to the flow of emotions from the super soldiers. He was vulnerable—unarmed, unarmored, and on a crutch—yet he stood, untouched, at the center of the battleground. The fight flowed around him, never touching him. The drones were programmed not to fire at him, but even if they had, they would have had little opportunity. He was too well protected. Scar never left his side, and the other super soldiers formed a living perimeter around him. The smallest opening was quickly filled as the super soldiers flowed in and out of active battle with perfect, silent coordination.

  Too perfect. He frowned, filtering through their emotions. Curiosity, even playfulness. The drones fired pellets—steel ball bearings coated with layers of hardened rubber—and the impact was intended to be painful but not fatal. Apparently the super soldiers had come to the same realization. Danyael smiled. It’s just a game to them. They’re children. Just children.

  A soldier playing tag with a drone misjudged Danyael’s distance and lurched into Danyael while skidding through a turn. The collision sent Danyael sprawling to the sand-covered ground of the arena. The accelerating drone swooped up to avoid smashing into the empath, but the pellets it had fired at the super soldier could not be recalled. A half dozen pellets pounded into Danyael’s back, ripping an agonized scream from him. A red haze exploded across his vision.

  Light conceded to shadow as hulking figures loomed over Danyael. Fighting to stay conscious, Danyael struggled up on one elbow and glanced over his shoulder. They’re shielding me.

  Scar roared, the sound reverberating through the arena. Emotions transformed in mid-breath. The roar shredded the innocent playfulness and turned children into animals. A super soldier clambered onto the shoulders of one of his comrades and then leapt high. He snagged the wings of a passing drone and dragged it down. Others jumped in. With bare hands and brute strength, they pounded the drone into the dust, denting steel, ripping panels, and shredding wires. The enemy smashed, they howled their victory and vengeance, their protruding jaws jutting toward the ceiling.

  Dazed, Danyael sat up. Beyond the wall of armored super soldiers surrounding him, the play date morphed into mass destruction. One after another, drones were dragged from the air and mangled.

  Before Danyael could catch his breath, the fight was over. Only then did Scar uncoil from his protective crouch over Danyael. The super soldier stalked across the arena to another soldier who, uncharacteristically, cowered. Danyael recognized the latter as the soldier who had collided with him, inadvertently throwing Danyael into the line of fire.

  Scar’s heavy arm swung back.

  “No!” Danyael shouted.

  Scar looked over his shoulder at Danyael.

  With help from another super soldier, Danyael pushed to his feet. His back felt as though it were on fire. He gritted his teeth and fought to maintain an even tone. “It’s all right. I’m fine.”

  Scar’s eyes narrowed. Danyael recognized his derisive snort as mocking disbelief. Scar pulled his arm back further, prepared to swing.

  Danyael had enough violence for one day. His empathic powers flashed, drenching the scalding an
ger and extinguishing its flame.

  As one, the super soldiers exhaled slowly and heavily. Their broad shoulders relaxed, and the scowls on their faces faded. Scar lowered his arm and stepped away from the still-cringing soldier.

  Crisis averted. Damn, that was too close. Danyael looked around at the crushed metal and wondered if he was not still faced with a disaster. Didn’t those drones cost hundreds of thousands of dollars each?

  The general’s voice came over the intercom. “Danyael, send them back to their barracks.”

  “We’re done for the day.” Danyael pointed at the door that led to the barracks. “Go get some rest.”

  The soldiers turned away from him and strode to the door. Scar was the last to leave after a lingering backward glance at Danyael.

  No sooner had the door closed than Danyael dropped to his hands and knees, succumbing to the pain he had not dared to reveal to the super soldiers. He sucked in jagged gasps of air, trying to breathe through the burning sensation that swamped his upper body. Dimly he heard another door open and the sound of others running toward him.

  “Relax, I’ve got you.” Carson helped Danyael to his feet and to a chair. He turned the chair around so that Danyael could straddle it and rest his arms across its back. “Let’s get your shirt off.”

  With effort, Danyael shrugged off his shirt. He hissed when Carson touched his back.

  Carson grunted. “You’re lucky, the pellets didn’t break skin, but your back muscles are already starting to swell. You’ll be black and blue by tomorrow. I’ll get some ice packs, see if we can keep the inflammation down. Do you want something for the pain?”

  “No.” His head felt heavy, and he slumped forward, dropping his head to rest on his arms.

  The general’s voice cut through the haze of pain. “What the hell happened out there?”

  Danyael looked up, an apology on his lips, but then realized that the general was not addressing him.

  General Howard paced among the ruined drones and spun around to glare at his two aides. “Whoever calculated the margin of error on those drones was wrong. Double it. Triple it. I don’t want any of those drones firing on anything when Danyael is within its sight.” His bright blue gaze fell on Danyael. “How are you doing? Those pellets were designed for the super soldiers; we wanted them to feel the impact through their body armor and thick hides. The pellets certainly weren’t intended for people.”

  “I’ll be all right. I…just need to catch my breath.”

  “You’re getting fitted for body armor tomorrow,” the general said. “Not open to negotiation,” he added as Danyael opened his mouth to point out that he was awkward enough on a crutch; body armor would only hamper his movement further.

  “Does he even need to be in the middle of it all?” Reyes asked. “It’s crazy. You can’t send a cripple into battle. If there’s a problem, he can’t even run away.”

  The general locked his hands behind his back and turned so that he could look at both Reyes and Danyael. He looked pleased with himself. “The ‘cripple’ part won’t be an issue for much longer, isn’t that right, Carson?”

  The doctor nodded. “That’s right. In fact, Danyael, I’ll need fresh x-rays of your leg. I have old ones on file, but Brian Porter—he’s an orthopedic surgeon from Johns Hopkins Hospital, probably one of the top in the country—has asked for current x-rays, and photographs too.”

  Danyael’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What for?”

  “Surgery.” Carson’s thin lips pressed into a smile. “The general managed to squeeze enough out of his budget to set up a operating room. The equipment arrived yesterday.”

  “Wait.” Danyael shook his head. “What do you mean by surgery? For whom? Me?”

  “Do you know anyone else around here who needs surgery? Of course, you.”

  “But I thought—”

  “We still can’t take you to the Army Medical Center, but the general called in a few favors, and Brian Porter finally agreed to come down to operate on your leg. Of course, we needed to set up an operating room for him to work in, and that effort posed its own set of hurdles. Anyway, we’re all set, and your surgery is scheduled for a week from today.”

  “Why?”

  Carson rolled his eyes. “You ask the strangest questions. Because you need surgery; is that a good enough answer?”

  “No, I meant why…” Danyael’s gaze shifted to the general. “Why are you going through all this trouble?”

  The general said nothing, deferring to the doctor with an arched brow.

  Carson sighed heavily. “Look, you’re pretty adept with that crutch, so don’t take this personally, but Reyes is right. There is no place on the battlefield for a cripple. Sometimes, you’re just going to have to move fast, even if you’re surrounded by an army of super soldiers. The general said he wouldn’t let you get anywhere near a real battle until your leg was fixed; it would be too dangerous for you.”

  “When did he say this?”

  “Two months ago, shortly after you started working with the super soldiers. It’s just taken a while to find the money we needed for the operating room. Budget issues, you know.”

  Danyael looked back at the general. “But you never said anything to me.”

  The general spoke up. “We didn’t want to get your hopes up. There were too many unknowns. Porter didn’t even confirm until yesterday.”

  “At any rate, next Tuesday, you’ll be as good as new,” Carson continued. “You’ll still need a few months of physical therapy to rebuild your strength and agility, but we can burn the crutch. Maybe have a celebratory Fourth of July bonfire, eh? Roast some marshmallows over it.”

  Danyael turned his face away and blinked back the tears. He would walk again, without pain. When he thought he could keep his voice steady, he looked up at the general. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” the general said, acknowledging Danyael’s gratitude as simply as Danyael had expressed it. His gaze flashed around the arena, littered with damaged drones. “Now this I did not expect. What changed?”

  “I got hurt.”

  “And you lost control of them?”

  Danyael shook his head. “I didn’t try to control them. I wanted to see what they would do without any empathic redirection. They were playing.”

  The general chuckled without humor. “It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt?”

  “Apparently. The pellets didn’t do enough against them to escalate the stakes. I was the weak link in the chain, and when I went down—”

  “But why did they care? Do they consider you one of them?”

  That was the question at the heart of the matter. Danyael looked away, said nothing.

  The general shook his head. “It can’t possibly be that simple, Danyael.”

  Danyael laughed, the sound low and bitter. “It isn’t simple. Try living with the guilt of emotionally connecting with children so that they’ll follow you without question and fight to the death for you. Trust me, it isn’t easy.”

  Reyes looked troubled. “Did you know they would fight to protect you?”

  “No, I came into the arena hoping to find an answer on how to direct them in a battle. I think we have it.”

  Reyes frowned. “Putting yourself directly in harm’s way is not the answer.”

  “There is no other way. They’re not going to listen to orders.” Danyael turned to the general. “If you’re trying to minimize the cost of human lives in battle, it doesn’t get cheaper than this.”

  The general dragged his hand over his face. “I didn’t expect you to turn that argument against me.”

  Reyes grabbed Danyael’s arm. “I can’t accept that you’re prepared to die for this.”

  Danyael pushed to his feet, clenching his teeth against the gasp of pain. “The time to hesitate is before setting things in motion, and I spent months agonizing over my decision. I promised to train the super soldier army. The cost is whatever it is; I can’t help that.”

 
Reyes shook his head. He looked pained; his brown eyes were anguished. “You’re not part of the military. No one can make you risk your life for your country, let alone for some crazy experimental program.”

  “I’m not part of the military, but my future is tied to the assault group.” He glanced up when Amanda entered the arena. She stood near the entryway and did not close the distance. Her expression was deliberately blank; he could recognize injured professional pride.

  He limped toward her. “I’m sorry.”

  She cast a quick glance at the general, as if trying to assess her superior officer’s mood, and then she lifted her chin. “I could have handled it.”

  “You have too many memories from your past encounters with the super soldiers. They’ll respond to your emotions, to your fear. I can’t let you take that risk.”

  “Can’t? I’m part of the assault group. It is my duty to take risks for this country, not yours.”

  “Enough.” The general’s voice was quiet but firm. “Danyael is a member of the assault group and—”

  One of the general’s aides burst into the arena. He skidded to a stop, breathing hard. “General, Sakti is attacking Pelican Bay State Prison.”

  The general looked up sharply. “Right now?”

  “Yes. The media’s got a live feed. This way.”

  The general hurried out with Amanda and his aides. Danyael followed slowly, hampered by his crutch and his aching back. Reyes hovered close. “Go ahead,” Danyael told Reyes. “I’ll catch up.”

  Reyes’s face was pale, his eyes stricken. “I’ll keep you company.”

  Danyael subtly probed the depths of Reyes’s emotions. The older man’s usually formidable psychic shields were in tatters, and his initial distress over Danyael’s willingness to put himself in harm’s way had been surpassed by fear of something else, something Danyael could not define.

  By the time they arrived at the command center, soldiers had crowded around a large screen. Danyael could hardly make out anything on the screen. Smoke and dust obscured most of the live camera footage. Shouts and screams were unintelligible. “Is this the footage from the prison?” Danyael asked.