For Meimi.
Of course, Godwin doesn’t know I’m leaving the city. Then again, the doctor doesn’t know a lot of things about me.
Like the fact that I’m not from this planet.
Plus, I’m not just any alien. My father’s the Emperor of the Omniverse, the universe of universes.
So what Godwin doesn’t know about me is quite a lot, actually.
Glancing down, I check my smart watch. Based on the time, Godwin’s still off chatting with President Hope. Those meetings last for hours. I’m good to leave the dome until dawn.
At the foot of Mass Avenue, I reach a line of arches set into the dome’s glassy base. Checkpoint Seven. Electric cars, regular pedal bikes, and hoverbuses—all of them wait in long lines under the archways. One aisle always stays empty, though. It’s reserved for Star Council members and their adjuncts, like me. I pull up there.
A Merciless warrior steps out. He’s dressed head to toe in black armor with a helmet shaped to resemble a skull. A small attack animal creeps along at the fighter’s side: a cat with reptile skin and bat wings. Only one guy keeps that particular attack animal handy. I stifle a groan.
Captain Vargas. He’s found me. Again.
Vargas works for General Humboldt, a bigwig who loathes Godwin. Together, Humboldt and Godwin are both trying to undermine President Hope.
It’s a really twisted situation.
Peeling off his helmet, Vargas marches over to my hoverbike. Like all Merciless, Vargas is in his late twenties, pale skinned, golden haired, and handsome. He’s also been screened for certain psychological profile: no empathy, high intellect, and strong predatory instinct.
In other words, a successful sociopath.
Vargas flashes me a winning smile. “Lovely day. Eh, Thorne?”
No one’s more charming than a sociopath. Best to keep every conversation to a minimum. “What do you want, Vargas?”
“Why so hostile?” He widens his eyes in the perfect replication of surprise. What the guy really feels is nothing. That is, unless he’s attacking someone.
“Because you’re tracking me when you should be tagging undesirables.”
All traces of a smile vanish. Vargas doesn’t bother to deny that Humboldt has him trailing me. “I could slap a wrist cuff on you.”
“I’m an adjunct member of the Star Council. My boss has his own way of keeping tabs on me.”
As a matter of fact, Godwin injected a DNA tracker directly into my bloodstream. I overrode it, though. Right now, those markers show I’m in Meimi’s room. The only way Godwin would think otherwise is if he stopped by the hospital. And since the doctor’s in with President Hope, he won’t.
“Try again,” I tell Vargas.
“According to data feeds, you should be at Mass General, looking over Godwin’s patient.” The way Vargas says patient, I know he suspects Meimi is something more. Not good.
“So?”
“Why are you leaving the city?” asks Vargas.
“Want my plans? You know the protocol. Ask Godwin.”
Vargas chuckles. “I already know what you’re up to. You’ve a suite reserved at the Berkshire Mini-Dome and Deluxe Resort. It’s only a short ride from the city. Exclusive. Romantic. Perfect for a certain lady, eh?”
Whenever I leave the Boston Dome, I always set up a reservation at the Berkshire Resort, just in case I need an alibi. Vargas thinks he caught me sneaking off for a woman. Instead, he’s only becoming part of my cover-up.
When I answer, I take care to keep my face blank. “Wave me on, Vargas.”
“Not a chance. Godwin ordered you back to Mass Gen.”
I check my smart watch. There are zero texts from Godwin. Vargas is bluffing. This guy has no idea where I’m supposed to be or why. This is how sociopaths pass the time—playing mind games with the rest of us.
Or in this case, trying to play mind games.
I lower my voice. “Let. Me. Through.”
There’s a long moment where Vargas stares at me. His hands ball into fists, a movement that makes his armor crackle. It’s an invitation to fight.
Every cell in my body wants to battle this guy.
Or since I’m from Umbra, it’s more accurate to say every sentient does.
My people are unique because our bodies store sentient, the most powerful beings in the omniverse. Sentient may look like particles, but they’re actually tiny cybernetic organisms that work as a hive mind to give us extra powers, like battle energy. Right now, my battle sentient are screaming for me to smash Vargas in the face. They communicate by sending me images of my fist crushing the warrior’s nose.
And because I’m adjunct to the Star Council, I could get away with it too.
On reflex, I start the process of activating my sentient. I picture tiny black particles seeping out from under my skin, covering my body in heavy armor. Next, I imagine more lacing through my muscles to provide extra strength. The sentient stir inside me, but they don’t appear.
My back teeth lock in frustration. For some reason, the Boston Dome blocks sentient from departing my body. It’s infuriating. It’s also why I must leave for this chat with my brothers. Normally, I’d just summon my knowledge sentient to contact them. But because of the dome, I must exit the city and connect at a specific time. All of which adds up to one thing.
If I want to take Vargas down, I’ll have to do it human style.
Which wouldn’t be too hard, actually.
In fact, a fistfight might let off some steam.
I kill the engine on my hoverbike. “Give me an excuse.”
Vargas pauses for another long second, and then waves me on. “Fine. Go.”
A little disappointing, that.
When it comes to battle, humans are no match for an Umbran like me. Even so, since Vargas has all that armor, he might have been interesting. I could have even freed Marro when I was done.
Ah, well. Another time.
Revving up my hoverbike, I take off at top speed through the dome wall. The moment I’m through, the road changes from smooth concrete into cracked asphalt. Gray skies loom overhead, filled with green-tinted rainclouds. In every direction, the landscape is nothing but rubble. The scent of rotten eggs fills the air.
Leaving the dome by hoverbike isn’t a common choice. Most people prefer a fully enclosed vehicle. That way, you avoid breathing unfiltered air. And sure enough, bits of soot, grime, and other gunk float before my eyes. I swear, there are coal mines with better atmospheres than Reformed New England.
But since I’m out of the dome, I can easily fix the air-quality problem.
Finally, I contact my sentient again.
Fast as a heartbeat, I send them a mental image of an air-screening mask, goggles, and an earpiece. This time, my sentient respond instantly. Silver particles rise from my skin, quickly forming the shapes needed.
After that, my sentient send me a mental image of a man punching his fist high. That’s their way of saying it’s good to be useful once more.
“Missed me?” I ask.
In reply, the mental image turns into a crowd cheering.
“Yeah, missed you too.”
I don’t store a lot of sentient, but the ones I have? After years of training, I’ve gained close control over every particle.
For the next hour, I speed over broken roads. Eventually I reach the ruins of an old apartment complex. The spot reminds me of a doll house: an entire wall has been sheared off, revealing sixteen floors of people’s lives the moment before the Authority took them down. There’s a living room with a faded-pink couch that hangs over the ledge, a library with books strewn across the floor, and a nursery with a toppled-over crib. Sad, really.
Parking my hoverbike, I march up to the building’s front door and step inside the lobby. It’s pretty standard stuff for old Earth. There’s a reception desk, now smashed. A wall of mailboxes stand nearby; they’re also demolished. Yellowing envelopes and faded catalogs still sit in exposed boxes. Some couches li
tter the floor, all of them covered in mold and collapsing in on themselves. Greenish dust covers everything. In the twenty years since the Authority attacked, few people have stepped in this place … which makes it the perfect spot to meet my brothers, Justice and Slate.
Still, the building sets my nerves on edge. It’s too much like a cemetery. Out of habit, I peel off my human covering, allowing my sentient to come out and take their place. Within seconds, I’m wearing black body armor that’s indestructible and made from sentient. No self-respecting Umbran meets his people in human clothes.
My earpiece beeps as Justice calls.
“Accept comm,” I say.
“Slate and I are coming through.” Even though he’s universes away, Justice’s deep baritone sounds perfectly clear. That’s all the work of his sentient. Like me, Justice and Slate also command these cybernetic organisms.
“Check that,” I reply.
My heart lightens. It’ll be good to see my brothers again.
A hoop of silver particles appears in the air before me. It’s the beginnings of a drift void, which is how we travel between universes. Since this circle is silver, the void’s created by knowledge sentient. There are four kinds of sentient in all: black for battle, silver for knowledge, blue for second sight (meaning visions of the present or future), and red for danger.
The particles spin in heavier loops until the center transforms into a solid circle of gray. The sight reminds me of a silver plate hanging in midair.
Then Justice punches through.
From the other side of the drift void, my brother strikes. Justice’s fist smashes through the center of the void, opening a portal between this version of Earth and my home world of Umbra. Justice steps through the round opening between our realities.
My older brother cuts a bulky figure in his long duster, heavy boots, and scarred face. Basically, he’s a younger version of our father, Cole. Both are the perfect combination of intellect and a hefty right hook. Justice is a master of battle sentient, second only to the Emperor himself.
A moment later, Slate slips past the round portal. My younger brother is a tall and sinewy with a long face and shoulder-length white hair. As a master of second sight sentient, Slate wears a deep indigo jacket with a high collar and straight cut. Not for the first time, my brothers remind me of a cowboy and preacher from Umbra’s Wild West days.
Or maybe it’s Earth’s Wild West days. So hard to tell. My family guards and gardens the omniverse, meaning that we encourage certain lines of parallel universes to expand while others die out. Over the millennia, it gets easy to mix up what comes from where, if that makes sense.
With Slate through the drift void, the portal spirals into smaller circles. Within seconds, the connection has completely disappeared.
Justice grins. His symmetrical smile highlights his rugged, twice-broken nose. “Thorne. Good to see you.” He sets his hand on my neck. “I still can’t believe it. A transcendent.”
I grin. He means Meimi, of course.
A transcendent is someone you love deeply across so many parallel universes, that connection bleeds over into your current reality. We were raised that the very idea of a transcendent is a fairy tale.
Even so, it’s true.
Meimi is my transcendent.
It still doesn’t seem possible.
Since I command few sentient, I’m the weak brother. The extra prince. An unworthy guy who got a free pass to the royal table. If anyone found a transcendent, it should have been Justice. He’s the one who’ll someday become Emperor. How I ended up deserving an honor such as Meimi, I’ll never understand.
I only know that I’ll protect her with everything I am.
Justice leans over until our foreheads gently touch. There’s no mistaking the deep smile in his voice as he speaks. “Transcendents exist. What a boon.”
“Don’t forget,” I counter. “Meimi and I are soul transcendents. She’s not Umbran. We only share thoughts and feelings, not sentient power.”
Justice shrugs and steps back. “I’d take that. You’re a lucky man.”
My smile widens. I am indeed.
Standing ramrod straight, Slate grips his fists behind his back. “Explain,” he declares. My younger brother’s voice is resonant and, as always, only heard for a word or two. By saying explain, that’s Slate’s way of asking for full details on me and Meimi.
My little brother doesn’t chatter much. I figure it’s because he lives in multiple futures with his second sight sentient. Or it could be that he’s the baby of the family, so he got used to me and Justice doing all the talking.
“Let me think.” I pause, trying to recall the last time I spoke with my brothers. “I saw you right after Meimi was taken by Godwin.” It’s only been a matter of weeks, but it feels like years have passed since then. “Since that day, there hasn’t been much to tell. Godwin erased Meimi’s memory, just like I expected.” The very thought heats my blood with fury.
No one should have touched a hair on Meimi’s head, let alone erased her memory.
Still, I can be thankful I saw it coming and could do something about it. Blinking hard, I refocus on my brothers.
“Meimi’s been unconscious in hospitals most of the time,” I continue. “I wheedled my way into Godwin’s confidence so I could watch over her. Now I’m her guard.”
“What about her—?” Justice taps his temple.
“Before Godwin took Meimi, I was able to link with her mind and leverage my own second sight sentient. They’re keeping her memories safe.” I don’t add in the part about having to kiss her to get the job done. My brothers know how blue sentient work. And my kisses are nobody else’s business.
Slate frowns. Since his face is all high cheek bones and smooth lines, that grimace is like breaking up a sculpture. “Meet,” he says again. That means he wants details from before Godwin entered the picture.
My brows lift. This is a lot of talking from Slate. And frowning? It’s an avalanche of emotion.
“All right.” I hold my hands up, palms forward. “When I first saw Meimi, our minds instantly connected. There was no push from my sentient. It just … happened. I could feel her emotions; she sensed mine as well. And we both received visions of the future—of us dancing, riding hoverbikes, that kind of stuff.” My heart warms just remembering the experience.
“Were you shocked?” asks Justice. Normally, I’d give him guff about all these questions about feelings. After all, Justice is a big bad warrior. But my older brother seems so genuinely concerned, I can’t make any jokes.
His interest is cool.
More than that, actually.
It’s sweet.
And for a rough warrior like Justice, that’s a big deal.
“Oh, I was floored when the visions first came in,” I reply. “But the whole thing became more overwhelming for Meimi, so I shut down our link. I only opened it up once more to save her memories. And since then, nothing like that connection has happened again.” I scratch my cheek and wince. “I’m pretty sure she hates me now that she’s awake. Not that I blame her. Godwin presented me as her badass guard.”
“You can’t give her back her memories?” asks Justice.
“Kiss,” says Slate.
And there it is. They both know how it works.
“Not yet.” Frustration tightens across my neck and shoulders. “My powers are blocked while I’m under the Boston Dome. No kissing—no activating her memories—until I get her out of Boston. Not that there’s been a chance to help her leave. Until today, Meimi’s been unconscious and in the middle of different procedures from Godwin.” There’s no hiding the acid in my tone as I say that last bit. “But she’s recovered and mobile now. I’ll get her out soon.”
“Override,” declares Slate.
I look to Justice. “What does he mean?”
“Slate’s seen some futures where you override that block. We’re working on options.”
“Thanks.” This is good news. Umbran tech
is far more advanced than Earthen. In fact, I’m amazed that humans came up with anything that could block our sentient in the first place.
Now that we’ve covered the happy subject—namely Meimi—it’s time to cover darker topics.
“How’s Cole?” I ask.
That’s our father, Emperor of the Omniverse. To become ruler, Cole had to take in a ton of Crown Sentient, a super-powerful breed of these cybernetic nanocreatures. Crown Sentient allow my father to see multiple universes and dimensions, but they’re also eating away at his mind.
“Cole’s still Cole,” says Justice. “The Emperor’s obsessed that I have a transcendent. Thinks it’s the end of his rule.”
My chest tightens with worry. When our father is sane, we call him Dad. When he’s not, then his name’s Cole. Sadly, he’s been Cole more and more lately.
“Sorry you had to deal with that alone.” I tap my earpiece. “Wish I could contact you when I’m in the dome.”
“Not to worry.” Justice adjusts his white Stetson. “Take care of your transcendent. Let Slate and I handle Cole.”
Slate’s gray eyes widen. “Coming.”
“You mean Cole?” I ask.
Slate nods. My heart sinks. My father is following us here.
No, not my father. Cole.
And he’s been obsessing over transcendents.
There’s not much I can do to protect Meimi from him, considering how weak I am with sentient. Even so, what I lack in sentient power, I make up for in training, learning, and determination.
I can only hope this time, that’s enough to save Meimi.
3 Thorne
“Eventually, Crown Sentient destroy the mind of every emperor or empress who possess them. It is only a matter of time.” – Hammurabi the Seventh, Law of Sentient
Another drift void opens in the ruined lobby. When Justice visited, he used silver sentient, meaning the purpose of his trip was knowledge. This time, Cole’s connection to this world is made from dark particles.
Alien Minds: Dimension Drift, Book 1 Page 2
