Psion Delta (Psion series #3)

by Jacob Gowans

  “No. We wanted to kill you because we were afraid you would train and lead the NWG soldiers. The NWG has no plans to start cloning that we know of, though that would probably change if they learned of our plans with the Hybrids. But you and your skills? Nothing can duplicate that. You are a human evolutionary wonder. And I want you fighting on the right team, Sammy. My team.”

  The fox moved his piece, eyes locked on Sammy’s, waiting to see his reaction.

  “Why would I join your team?” he asked as he countered the fox’s move.

  “Because it’s the better side. Because it’s the winning side, too. Because you’re here. And because I can help you regain your potential.”

  “What potential?”

  “Your Anomaly Eleven. You lost it.” The fox’s eyes told Sammy he knew what he was talking about. “I read your medical records after you returned home from Omaha. You were tested and the results showed that you hadn’t regained that lost gift. I can help you regain it.”

  “Because you share my anomaly, you think you can help me?”

  “I do.” A light on the fox’s com flashed several times. He answered it. After a pause, he glanced at Sammy and excused himself to the kitchen. Sammy looked out the window again, playing with the light on his own com as he did so. Again he wondered what was going on with Ludwig and Li’s teams. He thought of Jeffie and his hands and arms began to quake with nervousness. After a few moments, the fox returned and took his seat.

  “I don’t think I want to be part of your team,” Sammy said.

  “But why? You wouldn’t be a Thirteen, you realize. You would work with me. I can train you, guide you. You will make a great difference in the world.”

  “I spent six months in CAG territory. I know how this place is. The government rules with fear. You deceive your citizens into believing they are under attack from the NWG so you can consolidate power. You kidnap anomalies, torture them, and imprison or kill them. Your people aren’t even free!”

  “What do you mean, they aren’t free?”

  “They live in fear. I saw it with my own eyes. You tell people where they can and can’t travel. Who they can and can’t talk to. What they can and can’t do. You can’t tell people how to think and live!”

  Again the game was forgotten as the two Elevens stared each other down. “Don’t pretend like you understand what you’re talking about,” the fox snapped. “You don’t have any clue. You grew up in a house. You ate food when you wanted. Your parents lived well. You lived well. You had every advantage anyone could want.

  “Let me make this simple for you,” the fox continued. His normally soft tone now had a touch of frost. His finger rested on his rook, tilting it down and up, down and up with practiced balance. “When you give someone food to put on his table, when you build a shelter over his head, and most of all, when you give that person health from this age,” the fox put his hand a half a meter to the floor, then raised it up high, “to this age, you can tell them exactly how to live and he will listen. And if you make that same person afraid for his life, he will beg you to protect him no matter the cost.”

  “But what about freedom?”

  “Freedom is an idea. If someone wants to be free—” he clapped his hands in a dramatic gesture. “Bam!—they’re free. But you can’t eat freedom. You can’t drink it. Freedom didn’t cure ninety percent of all cancers. Free doesn’t warm your house during a brutal winter in Edmonton. It doesn’t cool a house during a sweltering summer in Quito. You can’t pretend that when push comes to shove people will choose freedom over saving their children from an early death. Nor will they choose freedom over being spared from a miserable life of poverty. I know differently. If you don’t believe me, you’re blind. What you saw was a work in progress. Since the formation of the CAG, I’ve slowly taken away these same rights and liberties that people believed were important and replaced them with things that actually matter, things that are tangible. With genetics and a new, stable world government created in an image I prefer, we will end hunger and poverty and sickness. I’ve already proven here, in the Continental American Government, that I am right. And eventually these ideas will spread around the globe.”

  * * * * *

  The Sammy-like Thirteens drew closer in a pack, not spreading out around her like Sammy had taught her they preferred to do. They protected themselves with blasts each time she fired. Jeffie still sensed something wrong or different about these crude imitations of her friend. It was almost as if they hadn’t been trained. Perhaps they were new and inexperienced. She didn’t know and didn’t care. When she glanced back, she saw the rest of her team fifty or sixty meters ahead. They don’t even realize I’m not with them.

  Several shots were fired at her. Jeffie slung her gun over her shoulder and used both hands to protect herself. The Thirteens fired again, but the bullets were harmless. They began to fan out, finally realizing the better strategy as they discussed it amongst themselves using their jerks and eerie shrieks. Jeffie tried to pick up her pace, but almost tripped. This sent a massive jolt of pain up and down her right side.

  Blood drained from her head and she got woozy, her hands nearly dropping. The Thirteens fired and she shielded, but her poorly-placed shield let one bullet get through and it whizzed right by her. She had no choice but to sit and use her feet as shields, similar to what Antonio had done. Her head rested against the cold stone wall, her feet up in the air, her gun back in her hands and ready to fire.

  The Sammy-Thirteens closed in. Jeffie took aim at them, knowing her bullets wouldn’t be able to penetrate their blasts, but still hoping to get lucky and do some damage. The strain on her right leg was incredible. She didn’t think she could keep it in the air for more than another minute or two. She hoped by then her friends would have the time they need to get back to the cruiser and rescue Sammy.

  She fired two more shots. Her leg dropped, but she jerked it back up, gritting her teeth through the pain. One of the Thirteens tried to shoot at her along the wall, but she successfully used a hand blast to block him. In the eyes of the Thirteens, she could see the cogs in their heads turning, figuring it out, learning. Still, they weren’t as aggressive as those she’d encountered in the sims. They weren’t well-coordinated, either. They lacked the savvy that comes through repeated battles, but their blasting abilities more than made up the difference.

  Any minute now, they’ll spot my weaknesses.

  Bullets flew in from another direction. Two of the ten Thirteens were caught off-guard and killed.

  “JEFFIE!” Kobe called out from a distance, sprinting toward her. “What are you doing?”

  “Go, Kobe!” she screamed at him. “Get out of here!”

  “Shut your mouth!” he said. “You are crazy if you think I’m letting these pukes get you.”

  He launched himself at them with jump-blasts, shielding his body with one hand and firing with the other. The Thirteens defended themselves well. Several of them turned to fight him while others kept their focus on Jeffie, firing at her from multiple angles, preventing her from shooting back.

  “You think because you broke up with me that I stopped loving you?” Kobe asked as he fired at the Thirteens again.

  Jeffie tried to smile but a teary grimace was all she could muster through the intense pain spreading up her side from the gun wound. Kobe attacked and retreated, attacked and retreated, always careful to protect himself. Another explosion went off above them. It distracted one of the Thirteens, and Jeffie took advantage. She strafed him with a long volley of shots across his chest and neck. He fired back, ignoring the blood pouring from his wounds.

  Jeffie’s feet blasts protected her, allowing her to shoot at another target. She hit the second in the head with her last bullet. She set the gun down and focused all her energy on defending herself. The Thirteen with the neck wounds continued to try to penetrate her shields as his life slowly flowed out of him in red spurts. Soon, he fell to his knees, shooting pathetically at the ground, and then
his face hit the pavement as he died with his eyes still open, staring at her.

  “Kobe, I’m empty!” she said. “Be careful!”

  “It’s okay,” he hollered at her. “It sounds like the other Thirteens fell into Li’s trap. More of us are coming back to help!”

  He backed away from the Thirteens to give himself space, shielding himself as he gave up ground. The remaining six Thirteens seemed torn between going after Kobe, who had the gun, and attacking Jeffie, the more helpless of the two. Far away, at the other end of the garage, the rest of the Li’s team emerged from the ramp.

  Half of the Thirteens fired at Jeffie. Kobe ran at them, shielding himself from the remaining three so he could kill the ones firing at her while their backs were turned. Two of them caught bullets in the back; the third spun and tried to get Kobe while his second shield was down. Kobe blast-jumped over the spray of bullets, on his face was an expression of sheer exultation. The other Thirteens shot at him as he flew through the air. One of them caught his leg. Kobe’s shielding hand instinctively went to grab at the injury. With his blast gone, the Thirteens hit him with several more bullets. Kobe landed horribly wrong on his chest and arms. His eyes were already closed. The Thirteens followed him with their guns, still firing.

  All Jeffie could do was watch him die.

  * * * * *

  “I don’t care if you’ve proven yourself right with your social experiments. It’s still wrong. You’re still wrong.”

  “Am I?” the fox asked. “Like I mentioned before, you carry some sort of noble belief with you that everything is black and white. You’re on the white side, and everything against you—everything you don’t agree with—is on the black side. Sammy, you are the one who is wrong, and I’ll prove it to you. Come back in, Katie.”

  Katie reentered through the main doors. She had changed her clothes, now sporting the traditional Thirteen uniform. She carried with her a brown box big enough to hold a basketball.

  “I have a present for you,” she said brightly.

  The fox gestured to her, and she placed the box on the floor next to Sammy. “Thank you, Katie. You may leave us. I don’t think Sammy is in his right mind with you around.”

  Sammy watched her go with disappointment. How could he kill her if she wasn’t here?

  “Remember what I told you when I spoke to you on your com?” The fox pointed lazily to the box as he spoke.

  Sammy’s eyes flickered to the object on the floor. He did not want to know what was inside it, but he knew he was going to find out regardless. His answer was quiet. “You told me a lot of things. All of them were lies.”

  “I told you to come alone, but you didn’t listen. If you had listened, my man at the lake would have told you to take elevator 13, not elevator 1. If you had listened, I wouldn’t have sent my soldiers into the parking garage to handle your friends. If you had listened, that box wouldn’t have the head one of your. . . Psions in it. But I can assure you it does. And Katie tells me that the rest of them are all lined up in the garage having their heads removed one at a time. You see, Sammy? You think you know more than everyone. You think you know more than me, and what I am trying to tell you is that you do not. I can teach you. You don’t know everything. If you would humble yourself, and let me—”

  “Shut up!” Sammy said. “You didn’t kill my friends. There isn’t a head in that box.”

  “Open it.”

  “No. I don’t want to open it. I don’t want to see what’s in it. You lied to me about my parents. You lied to me about yourself. You tricked me into coming here. And now you’re trying to trick me again. Why would I believe you?”

  “Because I am telling you the truth. Your friends are all dead. They had no chance against my Hybrid clones. That’s what I’ve been telling you. Stop seeing the world as white and black, good and bad, dark side and light side. Nothing is that simple!”

  “You kill your own people to terrify them. You terrify them so they’ll believe whatever you tell them! I know enough to know what you are.”

  “And what am I, Sammy? I’m a man who wants to make the world better. So a few people die? It matters little in the end. With the help of your DNA, I have created a small army of Hybrids who will end this civil war and bring peace. With that peace, I will be able to use my genetics to end the suffering of all mankind. I will eventually heal every disease. I will conquer hunger through genetics. I will make sure that every man, woman, and child no longer needs what you call liberty, because I will offer them true freedom. And that freedom will be real.”

  “It won’t be real because I won’t let it happen.”

  The fox shook his head at Sammy, who saw real anguish in his host’s face. “Disappointing. Your sight is so limited. Did you really think I would bring you all the way here just to talk? To play chess? I spared your life tonight. Everything I described to you began tonight. We launched an attack on the NWG almost three hours ago.”

  25.

  Chess

  Monday September 2, 2086

  As Byron flew his cruiser away from the Tensai Research Center, he scanned the horizon for any sign of danger. He still couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening. Such an extreme breach of security could only mean an open act of war. The term Silent War that the NWG insiders had used for the last several years no longer applied. The dire shortage of time forced him to make a very difficult decision: go first to Al and Marie’s home and warn them, or head to the War Offices and activate the failsafe to reboot all NWG systems?

  His knee-jerk reaction was to go straight to his son’s home, but something deeper told him that by doing his duty he might save a greater number of people. Perhaps he might even avert a total disaster. Ignoring the air regulations, he flew over the Alpha headquarters and landed the cruiser right in front of the entrance to the War Offices. He wasted no time scanning his palm, his eye, and stating the required vocal command for the voice match.

  “You are not recognized,” the computer voice stated.

  “Emergency code Walter alpha alpha one charlie romeo four mike four four yankee Byron.”

  “You are not recognized.”

  Commander Byron was on the verge of swearing for the first time in seven years. He racked his brain for the last code. “Master key unlock failsafe . . . seven . . . yankee . . . What is the rest of it? Four two . . . hotel echo zero lima papa zulu zero eight five.”

  “Master key unlock failsafe accepted.”

  Byron said a quick prayer of thanks and hurried to the next door, repeating the code. He dashed recklessly down the steps. The War Offices were empty save for a few technicians and programmers who seemed to think nothing was wrong.

  “Hey, Commander Byron, is your com working?” one asked him as he passed.

  “Not now,” he said.

  He wasn’t worried about the safety of the technicians. The War Offices, constructed deep in the earth, were built to withstand any aerial attack that mankind had invented. Right now, his concern was for everyone not inside. He sprinted past the conference rooms and war rooms, past everything until he reached the end of the long hall. To his left was a door that he knew revealed a tunnel. About two and a half kilometers away, that tunnel connected the NWG President’s Mansion to the War Offices. To his right was a large cache of weapons. Directly in front of him was a steel door marked: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL! EMERGENCY USE ONLY!

  Commander Byron opened the door and an alarm blared. Several people came running down the hall toward him. The room was really a small closet. Nothing was inside it except a glass case mounted onto the wall. Posted next to the case were the instructions for activating the failsafe. Byron had been briefed on all the information years ago, and quickly scanned the words.

  “Stop! Stop!” three Elite shouted at him as they raced down the hall.

  Commander Byron shut the door behind him and blasted the glass panel apart. Behind the glass was a column of switches almost like circuit breakers in his house when he was a kid. One
by one, Byron flipped the switches until only one remained. He closed his eyes and flipped that one as well. The instructions said to wait two minutes, so he counted out the seconds in his head. When he reached one hundred twenty, he counted ten extra seconds just to be sure, and then flipped the switches again in reverse order. Then he left the room.

  The Elite waited outside. “Sir, you’re going to have to explain to General Wu why you activated the failsafe,” one said.

  “Gladly.” He went back down the hall, turned into the room marked: Strategic Air Surveillance, and tapped on the door as he entered. “Get on the horn to your buddies in the towers around headquarters. Do it now. Find out if they see anything. Tell them to use visual and satellite feeds and whatever else they got.”

  “All systems are still rebooting, sir,” one of them said.

  “Are your coms working again?” Byron asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then call them!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Byron waited behind the two technicians. Above their heads, near the wall, was a holo projection of NWG territory. Green dots marked all the air towers across the map and blue dots marked the satellite receivers. All of them displayed normal readings.

  The commander ordered his com to call Khani Nguyen. She picked up immediately. “The failsafe worked, Commander,” she said. “We aren’t detecting a tunnel anymore.”

  “Okay, keep me posted if anything else happens.”

  Khani ended the call. Byron’s attention returned to the technicians. One of them looked over his shoulder and spoke. “They say systems are coming back online now. Visuals are negative.”

  It didn’t make much difference to Commander Byron. He still wanted Al and Marie down in the War Offices.

  “Wait, sir, they’re picking up something.”

  A beep sounded from the computer’s speakers. The holo map showed several blue and green dots now flashing red. Siberia, Sydney, Tokyo, and Reykjavik. “Unidentified objects approaching. They believe they have them on visual.”