by Dianna Love
His face went still as stone. “America?”
“I might have that wrong. Someone mentioned New Mexico was a state...that’s it. One of a united states.”
“United States,” he whispered. “I have heard of a United States...in my world...”
I wanted to shout. This had potential. “Really? Where do you live?”
He snapped out of whatever had distracted him. “I live in ATL/5, one of the ten cities.”
I read somewhere in Hannah’s book that there were fifty united states. Wouldn’t that mean there were at least that many cities? “What ten cities? Aren’t there more?”
“No.” He shook his head, his tone solemn. “Life outside the renaissance cities is too dangerous.” His words drifted off with his straying gaze that focused on nothing. He murmured to himself, “How can...ancient...I don’t understand.”
“What? Ask me, Callan. I want to work together. I’ll tell you anything I can.”
“Give me more information.”
“Like what?”
“About the school. How old it is, anything. As I said, the more information I have to give V’ru the better he will be able to answer my questions.”
If this V’ru was all that good, he should be able to confirm whatever I told Callan. “I read a book that said the Institute has been there for four years, so that would mean they opened it...” I paused, calculating the current year based on the date Suarez had written on his board in class. “They opened it in 2009.”
Callan stopped dead in his path then stepped away as if too close to a poisonous snake. “The year 2009?”
“Yeah.” Had I said something wrong? “I saw 2013 written by an instructor as part of today’s date on his board, so I’m pretty sure 2009 is correct.” Had I screwed up simple math? “I’m telling you the truth but you can ask Gabby if you don’t believe me.” I tried to reassure him. “Regardless of the date, believe me when I say I will help you leave here.”
“You can’t.” Horror spread across his face.
“Why not? What’s wrong?”
“Because, if what you say is true...that’s not my world.”
“I don’t understand. You said you know of America.”
Disbelief rocked his expression. “I do, but I don’t exist there.”
How could that be? “Now I don’t understand.”
“I live in the year 2179. The United States did exist in 2009, long before the K’ryan Syndrome. Even if I could travel in your transender, I wouldn’t survive in a world where I haven’t yet been born.”
I thought I couldn’t be shocked any more today. My heart pounded faster as what he said settled into my mind. He came from the future? If so, that meant...
The significance of his words hit me like a fist to the middle, raising an even greater concern. If his words were true, Gabby, Tony and I were from the past...and would die if we tried to return to our world in the wrong transender pod and arrived in the wrong year.
Even if I convinced Callan that we weren’t TecKnati, how could we be sure which pod we traveled here in?
How were we going to get back to our world?2179 ACE, in ORD/City One
CHAPTER 23
There must be a faster way to exterminate MystiK brats.
SEOH ANASKO stepped away from his floor-to-ceiling window view of Lake Michigan, a swatch of blue a hundred and seventy floors below his penthouse office in ANASKO Central Tower. His image reflected back from the glass–his face cosmetically altered to allow little room for emotions to show, his hair surgically implanted and a bull of a body even if he wasn’t tall–all tools to rule the furkken unwashed masses.
He turned to face Vice Rustaad, his second in command and most trusted confidant...who was pissing him off right now.
Rustaad watched him through the icy gaze of a forty-six-year-old man with the soul of an AI. He wore his short, sealskin-brown hair slicked back in a take-no-prisoners look. A mimic of SEOH’s own head of thick, dark hair. A former competitive swimmer, Rustaad’s discipline was evident in the way he maintained muscle definition at his age, and a competitive edge second only to SEOH’s. “I understand your frustration, SEOH, but the fact remains that we have a potential problem.”
SEOH had chosen Rustaad years ago because nothing stood in Rustaad’s way once he was committed to a goal...such as winning a gold medal in the International Alliance Games that had replaced the Olympics after the K’ryan Syndrome. SEOH would love to know if Rustaad really had anything to do with the “accidental” death of his closest friend–another gifted swimmer–as the rumors suggested. According to the media, Rustaad’s childhood friend had posed the only threat to Rustaad’s winning his last two titanium medals in swimming.
My kind of man.
Undeterred by SEOH’s foul mood, Rustaad went on to say, “With the threat against TecKnati children–”
“I still don’t totally accept that our children died from some power woven into the treaty. ” SEOH could only admit that brutal truth within the soundproof walls of his private sanctum, and even here he resented the need to speak of the unspeakable.
“But the evidence shows–”
SEOH held up his hand, cutting off Rustaad. “That our three TecKnati children died as a result of vengeance and a traitor inside our group. Has to be someone who alerted the MystiKs of our complicity in the deaths of their three children, then assassinated ours.”
SEOH’s opinion hadn’t changed in the past thirteen months that Rustaad had wisely not brought up the topic again, until now. Damn him for his persistence. SEOH understood collateral damage in any war–and make no mistake about it, he was at war with MystiKs–but he hated losing those three TecKnati teens who’d shown such brilliant potential.
No loss being greater than the death of his oldest son, one of his three most prized possessions. SEOH still couldn’t believe his perfectly healthy seventeen-year-old boy had clutched his throat, gasping for air as he’d played his holo games. The security vids in SEOH’s home had recorded the entire event.
Screw the furkken treaty.
If not for Furk, the decrepit TecKnati who’d been the tiebreaker on the board of twelve before he’d finally died, there wouldn’t have been a treaty. Furk had wanted to leave a legacy, and he had, in a way. His name had morphed into a curse used by TecKnati and MystiKs. Fitting.
Rustaad still had the stubborn jut to his chin he’d walked in with this morning and continued undeterred. “My investigation has been thorough and the results speak for themselves, SEOH. There’s no way the MystiKs could have known fast enough about the deaths of their children–that I personally eliminated–for them to retaliate so quickly. Each of our three teens collapsed in identical manners. Asphyxiated. No weapons involved, as stated in the penalty clause the MystiKs added to the treaty.”
“Words on a vid screen.”
“Words written by the hand of a Hy’bridt, initially on lambskin that was blessed by the rulers of all seven Houses and ratified by you,” Rustaad amended, bowing his head to remove some of the sting of his words. He added, “Your media campaign was exceptionally successful, but some MystiKs continue to circulate word that they warned us this was how the Damian Prophecy would come to pass. They claim the prophecy begins with the deaths of three children on each side of a battle line.”
Prophecy garbage.
But after losing his oldest son, SEOH had taken measures to protect his youngest, the fourteen-year-old future TecKnati prodigy who would follow in SEOH’s footsteps. Until the BIRG Con meeting with the MystiKs, Bernardo would be kept under heavy guard with a medical team on hand. His son might be unhappy, but no one, not even a prophecy, was touching one of his only two remaining male children.
As for his middle son, well, the less thought about him, the better.
Rustaad pressed on. “Much as I hate to give them credit, the MystiKs can stand in the way of our future.” He clasped his hands behind his back, tone even and dry as old bones, an influence of being raised in
a TecKnati boarding school with AI instructors. “Twenty years ago, I wouldn’t have thought the MystiKs could become this dangerous, but I have disturbing reports that confirm what we only suspected months ago.”
“Go on.”
“The young MystiK G’ortians, some of whom are in line to be the next leaders, intend to unite the Houses and, when they do, the MystiK power is purported to become ten times stronger when joined together against one target.”
“Damned new generation.” Accepting that supernatural abilities could interfere with science went against everything SEOH believed, everything he’d been taught.
He grunted, glancing again out the window at the crisp sky, one that was pollution free, thanks to ANASKO. How could intelligent humans believe in the ‘abilities’ of these MystiK wackos?
Easily. Most of mankind were lemmings, willing to follow anyone even if they were being led off a cliff. “Have people forgotten that technology rebuilt civilization from the K’ryan devastation and has handed them a world they enjoy today where the climate no longer destroys the earth? Where hunger is a choice?”
Before Rustaad could respond, SEOH corrected himself.
“No, not technology. TecKnatis.” He thumped his chest with his thumb. “We created this ideal environment that the MystiKs benefit from as well. We have placed the protection of the laser curtains around the Ten Cities. We prevent the rabid humans from entering our cities. The MystiKs should be on their knees thanking us for dealing with the feral C’raydonians.”
But SEOH would never admit some things that had happened to the C’raydonians, not even to Rustaad. No shared secret was safe and this could not be found out.
“Quite true,” Rustaad agreed, his nod from across the room reflected in the window facing SEOH. “And all of this progress has come about due to your recruiting the most brilliant TecKnatis to work here at ANASKO, because...you set the bar for thinking beyond the box.”
SEOH looked over his shoulder, eyeing Rustaad who didn’t have the genetic makeup to suck up. Still, a wary man was a wise one. SEOH understood the point Rustaad made, that ANASKO had attained this pinnacle of success because SEOH not only pushed the greatest minds to reach new heights, but also because he considered the impossible to be possible.
That, in fact, had been a direct quote from the media about his HERMES space program after ANASKO transported plants and animal life from Jupiter’s second Galilean moon back to earth. SEOH missed the days of unrestricted development. But the weak stomachs of today’s world had outlawed so much, even importing or building sentient predator guardians that could morph from shape to shape as needed. Manufacturing one now would land him in prison, a cage the most hardened criminals feared. Gone were the glory days where he could take whatever action needed to protect what remained of the world.
Guard and preserve the TecKnatis.
He turned all the way around, ready to solve the problem digging under Rustaad’s skin and move forward. “If the G’ortians are the issue then we simply capture the rest of them. That will clear the way for the return to unfettered domination of technology in this world.” My domination.
“I agree, but we’re running short on time with the MystiK’s BIRG Con coming up. If plan B has a hitch–”
“It won’t.” SEOH let Rustaad see the truth in his eyes. “Neither of us can afford to allow Plan B to fail under any circumstances. Even if I would consider signing the Amity Treaty again at this BIRG Con, the minute the reclusive MystiK leaders walk into the same room with each other they’ll realize they’re all missing children of their ruling families. That would be enough for them to join forces and turn their powers on us...if they really can do what your reports claim.”
Holding his thoughts silent for a long moment, though a deep furrow formed between his eyebrows, Rustaad calmly said, “You’ve never allowed arrogance to influence strategic planning. Why now?”
“A warning, Rustaad–take care how you choose your words.”
“I’m the last person who wants to be on the receiving end of your wrath, but you brought me on twenty-four years ago with the specific orders to watch your back. I intend to fulfill my duty even at the risk to my person.” Not missing a beat, he continued. “Our analysts have not come up with a viable scientific explanation for the interference with our last two HERMES shuttle launches. Have they?”
SEOH ground his back teeth, sure that there was a scientific answer, but since none had been discovered he had to admit, “No, they haven’t.”
“Then you must consider my intel that the leader of the Governing House did in fact combine powers within his house to interfere with those two launches to show us he was serious about stopping our space program and he isn’t even G’ortian. Can you only imagine what might be possible if the G’ortians succeed in uniting the Houses?”
If not for losing his son, SEOH would be glad he’d had the next in line for the Governing House eliminated. “I’m not convinced they’re capable of the damage incurred in those two aborted launches. Not without help. Logic says we have a traitor, which is why I retaliated.” He paused, giving that statement weight. “Someone inside our program who sabotaged the HERMES system only to give substance to the MystiK claims of power.”
Rustaad pressed his opinion in a stronger voice. “We erred once in underestimating the MystiK abilities and lost three geniuses–future TecKnati leaders–as a result.”
Rage bunched in SEOH’s chest and rolled down to his fingers that fisted, searching for a target to crush. “Do you think I need to constantly be reminded of their deaths?”
“Of course not, and I don’t like bringing up the subject. But–”
“That’s why we’re capturing their prodigies instead of killing them, so what’s your point?”
The dark silk suit covering Rustaad’s chest rose and fell with a soft sigh, the most reaction anyone would see from the man. The gunmetal greenish-gray uniform appeared at first glance to be the same all TecKnatis wore, but was very, very different. The color a shade darker, the texture richer, the construction hand made. Plus Rustaad wore the ANASKO tri-circle insignia, awarded to only the most deserving, the most loyal of TecKnatis.
Rustaad cleared his throat and continued. “My point is this. In spite of our captives being no older than seventeen, and many much younger, they’re proving exceptional at surviving in the deadliest part of the Sphere.”
That did give SEOH pause, but as long as the brats were isolated from this world and their families they were not a problem. He couldn’t expend energy on something that didn’t deserve his time. Especially not right this minute. He had an impending meeting with his damn board of twelve. They were waiting to be updated on the Sphere.
Eleven now, he corrected himself. “I know you’re not here just to debate the power of the MystiKs again, Rustaad. What is it you want?”
“I want you to put aside your prejudice against the supernatural and open your mind to the possibility that if we underestimate MystiKs we risk making a major mistake, one that may end with them ruling this world if they unite.”
Rustaad had a way of presenting the inconceivable in a deadly tone that warranted credibility. SEOH tossed back, “I think spending ten million credits out of my own pocket to build a laser grid says I’m giving serious consideration to their power potential.”
“I’m not discounting what you’ve invested in this project, but your primary reason for building that grid originally was to allow you control over all Ten Cities. Control over TecKnati and MystiKs that depended upon TecKnati resources. Finding out the laser grid harmed MystiK powers was a bonus.”
“Point taken.” In the interest of getting this behind them, SEOH finally let go of his irritation long enough to give Rustaad’s point the respect that his second in command was asking for and deserved. In a more thoughtful tone, SEOH said, “I don’t see how MystiKs can join together if they’re as untrusting of each other as we’ve been informed. Their lack of unity is one of our best weapo
ns against them. Seems like that alone should be enough to undermine the prophecy you keep nattering about.”
“We have to expect the unexpected. You taught me that.”
“I’ve allowed you resources to analyze that furkken prophecy, and for what? You said we only needed to grab those two G’ortians...”
“Callan and V’ru.”
“Right. Now you say we need more. We can’t succeed by chasing invisible threats.”
“I understand, but the prophecy is written as a puzzle we’re using Cyberprossessing and scientific expertise to unravel. Based on what I learned this morning, I now believe we should locate and confine the seven remaining G’ortians we know of.”
SEOH missed the days when technology ruled and the MystiKs were nothing more than a group of harmless spiritualists. How had things gotten so out of control? But Rustaad was a brilliant strategist whom SEOH trusted, an allowance he rarely granted anyone. “Why?”
“Because at first we believed the prophecy meant the final step would require the G’ortians to join as one. But as we’re unraveling the meaning, we now believe that one specific G’ortian will unite all, and we have no way of knowing which one.”
SEOH raised a hand in deference. “Then do it. Grab them.”
“We will, but we can’t move too quickly. G’ortians disappearing draws more attention than losing the other MystiK adolescents. And still, capturing those other five may not be enough.”
SEOH breathed through clenched teeth for a moment, determined not to lose his patience. “Now what do you want?”
“To prevent the MystiKs any chance of outplaying us. I’m concerned about the unknown element in all of this that could jeopardize everything we’ve worked toward. To win this war for domination, I believe we must strike from all sides at once.”
Now Rustaad was talking SEOH’s language. “I’m listening.”
