Psion Beta (Psion series #1)

by Gowans, Jacob

It took him several deep breaths before he was ready to get off the floor. He wiped his eyes and looked at his partner. “If we do make it out of here alive, no one needs to know about that little bit of craziness, right?” he asked Kobe, almost smiling.

  “Sure they do,” Kobe said.

  They shared the shortest of laughs. Two boys, now friends, waiting for an incoming tide of death to roll over them. Sammy thought about his parents, wondering what they might say to him in a situation like this. He had no idea, but he remembered how proud he’d been when he took Byron’s oath his first day at headquarters. He remembered the day he’d beaten the four-Thirteen sim. Each of those days he’d felt pride, not coming from himself, but from the feeling that his parents somehow knew what he’d done and were pleased. His parents would want him to fight on. Fight forever. Fight to the death.

  “Sammy?” Kobe asked, sounding very worried. “Sammy?”

  Sammy broke out of his trance. “Huh? What?”

  “What’s going on? You all right?”

  “Just—just reflecting.”

  “Well, enough reflection. What are we going to do?”

  Kobe’s words struck Sammy. New energy filled him. “That’s it,” he said. “I’ve got an idea.”

  “What?”

  “We need to break into one of the offices and steal a desk,” he said with a small grin. “I’ll explain the rest in a second.” They hurried to the nearest office. The door, like all the others, was locked. Sammy checked his sliver holders, and remembered his were both gone. “Give me your sliver.”

  Kobe handed one over.

  Sammy jammed the blade into the lock. “I’m going to pick this lock.”

  “How?” Kobe asked.

  Sammy held the sliver firmly in place with one hand, then kicked hard into the butt of the handle. The sliver split the door knob in two. “Like that.” The door swung open from the force.

  Inside, coated in a layer of dust, was a simple office desk. The legs wobbled and the wood felt like cheap plastic, but that was good since they had to carry it back to the bathroom. They stood it upright near the door, leaving just enough space for the door to open without interference. Then they took down the bathroom mirror. All in all, preparations took less than ten minutes.

  It’s not much, Sammy thought as he looked over their work, but it’ll have to do.

  They stood side by side like kids in a tiny sandcastle waiting for a huge tidal wave to wash over them.

  “Seems silly now, doesn’t it?” Kobe asked right before Sammy thought the silence might drive him crazy.

  “What’s that?”

  “All that fighting we did . . . you know, back home.”

  “Oh, yeah. That. I guess so.”

  “I’m sorry, man,” Kobe said. “For all of it.”

  Sammy heard something in Kobe’s voice that he had never heard before: humility. It touched him deeply. “Me, too. I was just jealous of you and Jeffie.”

  “So was I. Of you.”

  For some reason, perhaps they needed a break from the hopeless despair they felt, chuckles came from both of them. Then it was quiet again.

  Sammy wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard voices in the distance. “Kobe, listen, if somehow you make it out of here and—” He found himself choking up at the thought of it. He swallowed hard and forced himself to continue, “and I don’t—for whatever reason—could you tell Jeffie something for me?”

  “Sure, anything,” Kobe said. His voice was soft and didn’t sound at all like a sixteen-year-old’s should.

  Sammy heard the sound again. It was definitely a voice. People were coming. He was sure Kobe had heard it too. He smiled to himself wistfully, and touched his cheek, imagining briefly that he could feel warm lips pressing it once more. “Tell Jeffie she reminded me of my mother.”

  Kobe didn’t answer for several seconds.

  “I’ll tell her that,” he finally answered. Then he added, “If you don’t make it out.”

  The sounds grew louder. Sammy could now distinguish the shrieks of different Thirteens. Thuds and bangs of doors being kicked open and desks being overturned echoed down the hall, foretelling their approaching doom. He thought for certain he would vomit. Any moment now the door would burst open. His fate would be decided. He wondered if his life would flash before his eyes as he died.

  Don’t be stupid.

  The Thirteens were close. The urge to vomit had passed, but his stomach and legs felt like lead. His heart would surely burst out of his rib cage at any moment. He wondered if Kobe could hear his heart beating. Blind terror threatened to devour him whole.

  Kobe whispered Sammy’s name.

  “Yeah?” he answered almost inaudibly.

  “I’d be proud to die fighting next to you.”

  His words made Sammy feel alive again. He promised himself that no matter the cost, Kobe would get out of the building alive. The Thirteens were right outside the bathroom, their shadows blocked out what little light came in under the door. The door burst open. It slammed into the wall with a deafening BANG, revealing a group of Thirteens standing in the hallway.

  Loud shrieks filled Sammy’s ears. His field of vision was flooded with images of blood red eyes and horrific faces of varying degrees of mutilation. Sammy felt how badly they wanted to kill him, maim him . . . one of them even looked like she wanted to eat him.

  Sammy and Kobe stood on cue, threw their hands out and blasted the huge pile of glass shards they had carefully piled on the desk. The Thirteens had no time to react.

  Some of them shrieked warnings. Some just stood in awe of the spectacle flying at them like rain frozen in space. Glass went everywhere, embedding itself into the door, the wall, the ceiling, and most importantly, into the blast suits of the Thirteens. Sammy and Kobe blasted again, this time it was the Thirteens who moved, literally scattering onto the floor. The two Betas jumped over the desk and out into the hall, blasting past the Thirteens still trying to get up. Many of them were bleeding from glass shards still stuck in their chests, faces, arms, and in one case, the eyes. But even this wasn’t enough to slow them.

  They took up their fighting positions in the hall, each armed with one of Kobe’s slivers, Sammy counted the enemy. Fourteen total. Eleven wounded or with damaged blast suits. Very bad odds for us.

  Taking the battle into the hallway created a space constriction in Sammy and Kobe’s favor. Their hope was that the narrowness of the corridor would limit the number of Thirteens that could attack at once. Then, if they had to give up ground, they could retreat toward the brick wall until support arrived.

  The Thirteens swarmed onto Kobe and Sammy like angry hornets. Those who were the most damaged held back, trying to get shots on the Betas while the three with undamaged suits fought hand-to-hand. Sammy and Kobe fought well, standing their ground in combat, blasting those that got too close with weapons. The Thirteens’ damaged suits could not handle the energy and they flew back each time, some of them badly injured from either the blasts or the impact into the walls.

  It didn’t take time for the Thirteens’ strategy to evolve. The front three Thirteens stayed far away enough to avoid the Betas’ slivers, but still absorbed most of the blasts with their suits. The two boys were getting tired, but the Thirteens seemed to get stronger. In sheer desperation, Sammy threw his sliver at the female Thirteen. She leaped into the air, but not high enough. The sliver sank deep into her thigh. Sammy blasted her backwards into another Thirteen who almost shot her in the back, but pulled his gun up just in time to miss her. Chunks of plaster rained down from the ceiling.

  Only two blast suits left.

  Then Kobe yelled in pain.

  Sammy glanced back to see Kobe on the ground clutching his arm. A small chunk of Kobe’s right bicep had been torn out from a well-aimed shot. He was putting pressure on the wound to stem the bleeding. The Thirteen who’d done the damage was a short man with scars carved into his face to make a strange pattern. Whipping a spare pistol out from his belt,
he pointed it straight at Kobe’s heart and pulled the trigger. With his left hand, Sammy shielded two shots from up the hall. With his right, he blasted at the gun. In mid-flight, the bullet was blasted off course, harmlessly striking the wall.

  Quick as lightening, the man struck out at Sammy, landing a blow to his face. Sammy stepped back, momentarily stunned. Before he could recover, the man grabbed the fabric of his flight suit, his long claws digging through Sammy’s uniform, into his chest, and headed butted him. Sammy brought his knee up, aiming for the groin. The man pushed his hips back and Sammy’s knee hit air. Extending that leg out, he blast-jumped off his other foot, bringing his spiked toe into the man’s crotch, ripping more than the blast suit. Still clinging to Sammy’s suit, the Thirteen cried out in agony. Sammy tore his clothes from the man’s clutched hands, leaving two holes in the chest of his garment.

  With Kobe down one good arm, the battle quickly turned in favor of the Thirteens. They pressed their advantage, forcing Sammy and Kobe to give up ground in the hallway.

  The battle raged on for close to fifteen minutes. Two stray shots had grazed Sammy: one cutting his leg, the other a slash across his rib. The leg wound was the worse of the two. The claw marks on his chest still oozed blood. All the wounds stung, but more disconcerting was his growing weariness which he fought just as hard as he fought the Thirteens. Running out of room, Kobe and Sammy turned the corner, making their final stand with the brick wall only twenty meters or so behind them.

  Then . . .

  KABOOM!

  A tremendous shock wave shook the building. For half a moment, the entire battle stopped as everyone looked around, trying to determine where the explosion came from. No one had an answer. Sammy seized the chance to kick the last undamaged Thirteen in the chest, slashing him deeply with the toe spike. Then he turned to blast two more Thirteens back as Kobe did his best to help. Another shot hit Kobe, and he fell backwards from the blow. Sammy thought his friend might be dead until he saw Kobe half blast, half crawl to the corner of the hallway leaning back against the brick wall in a heap. Six Thirteens had either died or collapsed from a loss of blood. The remaining eight moved in closer for the kill.

  Sammy didn’t know what came over him in that moment, a sense of duty, a surge of hatred and fury, or a clearness of consciousness. Maybe a mixture of it all. Whatever it was—he saw again. Unlike times past, he did not see the way to win, he couldn’t get them out of the factory, but he did see the perfect Sicilian defense.

  For five solid minutes, he was nothing more than a blur of blocks and attacks. Never enough to push them back, just enough to keep them at bay. He jumped, dove, sliced, blasted, dodged, and shielded every time he needed to, keeping Kobe and himself alive for just a few minutes longer. Shots rang out in many directions, but Sammy was too absorbed in the fury of battle to allow them to hit him. The closest any bullets came was a third grazing shot that knocked the com off his head. He stopped caring how many Thirteens were dead, but he was pretty sure he got two more of them.

  Inevitably, the exertion of the battle took its toll. It became increasingly difficult for Sammy to blast well. His eyes lost focus. His mind became sluggish. I’m just a little tired that’s all. If I just push through and get my second wind . . . he thought, not realizing he was on something like his fourth wind. It took great willpower to force himself to keep fighting. He felt like he was holding a hurricane back with everything he had inside of himself.

  Still, it was six on one. Miraculous as his fighting was, it was not enough. His body and brain had all but depleted his stores of energy. Random thoughts fired through his mind—strange thoughts—distancing his mind from the incredible movements of his body.

  I think Jeffie liked Brickert all this time! Ever since I started letting her win Star Racers.

  He dodged several rounds and shielded more away from Kobe.

  Chicken cordon bleu would be oh so good with a creamy oatmeal sauce.

  New sounds came from behind the Thirteens, but Sammy hardly noticed them.

  Kawai probably wouldn’t eat it. What would Al say about turkey?

  A face appeared behind the Thirteens.

  There he is. I can ask him.

  But Sammy’s raving mind did not grasp reality right away. The Thirteens are turning around. Bunch of yellow chicken sandwiches! Why are they doing that? he wondered as he fell to the ground in bone-drained exhaustion, shielding Kobe’s body with his own and raising his arms to blast away projectiles that were no longer coming his way. Slowly, as his mind came back into focus, he saw that Al was indeed at the other end of the hall. So were Marie, Kaden, Gregor, and Li.

  They’ve finally come to save us! That explosion was them blowing through the proximity mines!

  One last surge of adrenaline boosted Sammy enough to make one final desperate move. He grabbed Kobe’s sliver and threw it at one of the Thirteens. The man fell to the ground with a groan, impaling the sliver deeper inside of him. His hand cannon dropped alongside of him. Sammy picked it up and used the spikes on his shoe to slice the Thirteen’s finger off. He clumsily pulled the trigger and shot a round of shrapnel into the wall.

  Oops. I’m more tired than I realized!

  He took more careful aim on the second shot and fired at the lean blond Thirteen who dropped in time to avoid getting hit. The Thirteen fixed his cold red eyes on Sammy’s weakened state and smiled, displaying the blood smeared on his teeth and lips where the glass had cut him. Sammy sent a blast at the Thirteen’s chest, but his target side-stepped it almost casually. I am in deep, deep—

  Sammy aimed again, this time with the cannon and fired, but all he heard was a click. He threw the gun at the Thirteen and tried to scramble to his feet. It was like trying to pick up dead logs. As he stood, he backed into something cold and rough.

  The brick wall.

  The man said nothing. He stepped back three steps and pulled something from his belt. It blinked red. Both Sammy and the Thirteen gazed dully at the small object as it flashed the red light.

  Sammy tried to remember where he had seen it. He knew he had used those before—in simulations, yes—but he could not put his finger on exactly what it was. The light blinked faster, and then he remembered.

  A sticky!

  The man hurled the sticky grenade at Sammy, who found it immensely difficult to gather the strength to shield himself. It took everything he had left in him. The sticky rebounded off the energy force of the blast, away from him and Kobe, and stuck on the ceiling not more than a meter away from Sammy’s head. The light blinked very rapidly now. Sammy threw himself on top of Kobe and curled up on his back to use his feet and hands to maximize his shield.

  A loud BOOM shook the floor and roared in Sammy’s ears.

  The explosion ripped into the ceiling and walls. The force of it shoved Sammy backwards, but nothing penetrated the shield he had produced using the last of his energy. From the force of the concussion wave, his head slammed hard into the floor. His ears rang like a high-pitched fire alarm. For several seconds, he saw nothing but stars. Then his vision cleared, leaving him with a pounding headache. He squinted through the pain, watching large chunks of ceiling and brick rain down around him. One large crack in particular spread down the wall and onto the floor. Sammy heard a loud groaning noise like metal creaking under a heavy strain. A second crack traveled across the floor near him. Small chunks of the floor collapsed into a new hole the size of a basketball, tumbling down into a dark abyss.

  Why is there a hole under the floor?

  He didn’t have time to think as the gap spread quickly toward him and Kobe. He checked to see if his friend was all right, but Kobe had lost consciousness. There was another groan of weight, this one even louder. As the damage spread, the largest chunks of the brick wall teetered dangerously.

  “We’ve got to move, Kobe!” he yelled, shaking his friend.

  Kobe gave no sign of waking. Sammy grabbed him under his arms, cursing his friend’s weight, and heaved him
away from the brick wall. Kobe collapsed back to the floor in a heap, now out of danger. Sammy was finally able to catch a glimpse of the battle raging on between his friends and the Thirteens just down the hall.

  The blond Thirteen who had thrown the sticky bomb now lay on the floor, badly burned. Al and the others were still locked up with the few Thirteens standing. They seemed to be winning. His heart soared.

  We’re going to live, he thought. A feeling of tremendous relief flooded him. I’m going home.

  Just as he thought this, he heard a loud crack.

  The hole in the floor grew rapidly, the ground gave out beneath him, and he, too, fell into the hole. He looked up and saw the brick wall crashing down over the hole, sealing in darkness all around him as he fell down . . .

  down . . .

  down . . .

  down . . .

  down . . .

  18. Falling

  Al and Marie stood side by side blasting back bullets when an explosion rocked the hallway. A cloud of dust and smoke billowed toward them, obscuring the end of the passage and denying Al the chance to see if Kobe and Sammy had survived the detonation. Even his nightmares had never been this bad. How had things gone so horribly wrong?

  The Thirteens had discovered their plans to bug the factory, they had blocked off their exits, and somehow the cruiser’s long-range communications equipment had malfunctioned making it impossible to contact Command for help. It was the worst possible scenario.

  Al asked himself again and again if he’d done the best he could, wondering how many more lives this failed mission would cost. Near the end of the hall, a burned and beaten blond Thirteen screeched out in a raspy, fading voice. The remaining Thirteens immediately began to retreat, running out the exit through a haze of smoke and dust where the brick wall had stood.

  The shouts pushed thoughts of Martin and Cala away. Marie and Gregor dashed after the Thirteens. Li hobbled behind on his hurt foot. “Let them go!” Al called out.

  They stopped.

  “Where are Sammy and Kobe?” Gregor asked.