Kodiak sighed. He could survive on coffee for a while longer. There was a bigger, more important thing he needed than sleep.
He turned in his seat. Avalon was leaning over the table, examining the lab report, her forehead in her hands. Her long red hair framed her face, hiding it from Kodiak.
“We need to find Tyler and Caitlin Smith, now,” he said.
Avalon looked up. “And how do we do that? Caitlin Smith doesn’t have her tag anymore, and Tyler’s is shielded and doesn’t show up on the Fleet manifest.”
Kodiak rolled his neck. “And the door-to-door hasn’t picked up anything yet.” Reports from the city lockdown were flooding the Bureau—with so many agents and marines enforcing the lockdown out in the city, it was all the bullpen could do to keep up with the flow of information. Kodiak curled his hand into a fist and bumped it against the table in frustration. “The two prime suspects are psi-abled. You’d think that would be some kind of help at least.” He gave a sigh and slumped back into his seat, wracking his brains for options. Damn, he was tired.
Then Avalon sat up in her chair. She turned to her agent. He sat up too, recognizing a fire in her eyes.
“What?”
“Moustafa,” she said. Kodiak frowned and Avalon tapped a fingernail on the table. “Commander Moustafa,” she explained. “He’s a lead psi-trainer at the Fleet Academy.”
Kodiak pursed his lips. “Okay … one of the Smiths’ teachers, I assume?”
The chief nodded. “Yes. He’s a good friend. I remember something he once briefed the Command Council on, maybe six months ago. They were working with the Alpha One class on something—they could take the psychospore of an individual and follow it back to them.”
“Psychospore?” Kodiak’s eyes went wide.
“The psychospore is the psychic echo everyone leaves—it’s what our psi-fi equipment uses when it pairs with our minds.”
Kodiak rubbed his eyes as his Fleet training came back to him—specific information on psionics that he hadn’t needed to call on in … well, in years.
“I remember,” he said, nodding. “That’s how the psi-marines link up to form their gestalts—they kinda listen out for the psychospore of the other members in their fireteam, using it to lock their consciousnesses together to form the hive mind.”
“Exactly,” said Avalon. “And while their minds are linked, the gestalt is essentially one single entity. Like the Spiders themselves.”
“So what was the Academy working on?”
“I don’t remember the details,” said the chief, “but I think the idea is that if the gestalt is a single mind, in theory each of the psi-marines will know where the other members of their team are. Their physical location.”
Kodiak’s jaw worked as he processed the concept. It sounded logical, although he knew he was very much a layman when it came to the Psi-Marine Corps. But, if this “technique” was viable, then maybe they had a new option available, one that would allow them to find both Tyler and Caitlin, even without the manifest tags.
Then he frowned as he thought again. “But doesn’t that mean Tyler and Caitlin need to be part of a team’s gestalt?”
Avalon shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t remember the specifics.”
“I think you need to talk to Commander Moustafa. If there’s a chance this might work, we need to take it.”
“Agreed,” said the chief. She pushed her chair out and headed for the door, but she stopped, one hand on the handle as she turned back to her agent. “You need to get some rest. I’ll talk to Moustafa. I’m not sure how long it would take to organize, if we can do this at all, but I’ll call you. You’ll have a couple of hours at least. You look like you could use that.”
Kodiak nodded. “Thanks,” he said.
As Avalon left, the sound of the busy bullpen came through the open door for a few seconds, then cut out again as the door clicked closed.
Kodiak allowed himself a yawn, then stood and stretched. He could rest, just for a little bit. And yes, he certainly needed it.
But as he walked to the door, he felt excitement grow.
Maybe they had another option open.
Maybe they could find the Smith twins.
Maybe they could get some damn answers.
23
“I don’t know about you, but this is giving me the creeps. Seriously, man. The creeps.”
Braben sipped his coffee as he stood next to Kodiak and Commander Avalon. They were in a large and perfectly circular room, the walls Fleet-standard silvery gray but angled outward from the floor, so the chamber was considerably wider at the ceiling than ground level. In the ceiling of the strange chamber was a white circular light panel, spotlighting the center of the room and the eight reclining couches arranged like petals around the hub. The couches were thickly padded and articulated, like the medical equipment they were. Arranged around them were three separate consoles, curved like the walls of the room. The entire set-up was minimal, symmetrical. It was, Kodiak thought, like standing inside a giant metal flower. It was beautiful too, but Braben was right. The strange space was also a little creepy, the weird design making the chamber feel very … unfamiliar. He swallowed a ball of tension.
“Yeah, I know the feeling,” said Kodiak, exchanging a look not just with Braben but with the chief too. Avalon was silent, but her expression was firm. They were venturing into unknown territory with this, but if this was successful, it would mean a lot to the Bureau—not just in terms of the current investigation, but as a new technique for them to use.
If it was successful.
But, at least he was feeling better after a couple of hours of sleep. Now it was Braben’s turn to look ragged. He’d been up all night in the lab apparently, in case the techs had discovered anything as they dismantled the servitor from the warehouse. Then the pair had spent the best part of the last few hours going over the data down at the bullpen while Avalon flexed her authority and made contact with her friend, Commander Moustafa at the Fleet Academy. The technique they were about to employ was experimental. New territory. But Moustafa had been cooperative, and for that Kodiak was grateful.
It sounded so simple too. The search would be conducted by a psi-team, who lay on the couches, closed their eyes, and …
What, exactly? Kodiak wasn’t sure. He had zero psi-ability himself, aside from the general low-level aura every human being possessed that allowed various bits of equipment—the helmet computers Fleet personnel wore out on the field, for example—to function by thought alone. So whatever the psi-team was about to do, whatever they saw, or felt, or heard, or whatever the hell it was, he really had no idea. All he could do was sit and watch and hope they succeeded in finding their two targets: Tyler Smith and Caitlin Smith. Tyler was the priority, but ideally they wanted both of them in custody.
The main doors slid open behind them. The trio turned as a dozen personnel filed in: at the front, a tall officer with a closely cropped black beard, the rank insignia on his chest set onto the black inverted triangle of the Psi-Marine Corps. The officer was followed by two women and a man dressed in the white uniforms and garrison caps of technical operators—FlyEyes without their multifaceted headsets—and eight younger personnel in tan uniforms marking them as students from the Academy.
As Kodiak watched the team arrive, Braben turned to the chief, his eyes wide in surprise. “These the best for the job? Cadets?”
Avalon ignored the comment, instead snapping a command.
“Attention, Agents!”
Braben and Kodiak automatically obeyed, Braben ducking down to place his coffee on the floor before joining Kodiak in a salute while Bureau Chief and Commander Moustafa saluted each other, then shook hands.
“Thanks for this, Ibrahim,” said the chief.
“Of course,” said the Psi-Marine Commander. “We have to throw everything at this. The Academy is honored to be of assistance.”
Avalon introduced Kodiak and Braben to her colleague. After they made their greetin
gs, Moustafa insisted the two agents stand at ease. Then he gestured to the three ops he had brought with him. “This is First Sergeant Epstein and Corporals Sigler and Holt, three of our best technical trainers.”
The technicians saluted, which Kodiak, Braben, and Avalon acknowledged. Standing next to him, Kodiak thought he could physically feel Braben’s anxiety, radiating off him like heat. Moustafa had clearly heard Braben’s earlier comment. He nodded at the agent, then turned to the group of eight cadets assembled just behind him.
“I know what you are thinking,” he said. “Yes, they are young. Yes, they are cadets. But I can assure you, they are the best.” He turned to regard his students and held out his hand, palm open. “This is Alpha One, the elite class of Sixty-Nine from the Psi-Marine Academy. They may not have served the Fleet yet, but believe me, they are ready.” He turned back to the Bureau agents. “More than that, Alpha One-Sixty-Nine, along with their ops trainers, were actually the ones to help develop the technique we’re about to test for you.”
At the edge of his vision, Kodiak saw Braben narrow his eyes as he looked at the group of cadets. There were five men and three women, and Kodiak had to agree that they did all look barely out of their teens. Braben retrieved his coffee from the floor, but didn’t say any more.
But he knew Avalon trusted the Academy commander, and he trusted the chief. Alpha One were the best of the best. Both Caitlin and Tyler Smith had been part of that class, after all.
Avalon cocked her head. “Are you able to give us an estimate on the probability of success?”
Moustafa pursed his lips. “That’s a difficult question, Commander. I am certain we will obtain a result, but what I cannot estimate is how long it will take. There are risks involved with this new technique, so we will need to proceed cautiously.
Kodiak lifted his head. “Risks, sir?”
Moustafa nodded, bouncing on his heels a little as he folded his arms. “To locate the two missing persons, the cadets will form their own gestalt. While this is a standard skill for any psi-marine, directing the gestalt to find other minds is not. To achieve this, the gestalt will essentially act like a magnet, drawing other psi-abled people into it. If the targets are still in New Orem, they’ll be able to sense them both.” Moustafa glanced at the chief. “And therein lies the problem.”
The chief raised an eyebrow as Moustafa gestured to the circular chamber in which they stood.
“This training room is psychically shielded,” he said, “so it will mitigate the effects somewhat, but the ops will be monitoring the gestalt field constantly. In a city the size of New Orem, there is a very high probability of there being psi-abled citizens out there who don’t even know it.”
Avalon frowned. “I’m sensing that’s a problem.”
Moustafa nodded. “As part of a gestalt, you sacrifice your sense of self, deliberately. Psi-marines are trained to deal with this and control it, but it is dangerous for those without that skill. An untrained mind caught in the gestalt may not be able to escape it.”
Kodiak sighed. Okay, that was a problem. He knew the technique was experimental, still very much in its infancy, but that seemed to be an almost insurmountable drawback. He drew his finger under his bottom lip as he considered the implications. He felt his confidence in the plan begin to sink.
“So,” he said slowly, “how do we do this without killing a certain percentage of the city’s general population?”
Commander Moustafa walked over to the couches at the center of the training room. “Carefully is the answer, Agent. Everything is monitored from here”—he pointed to one of the freestanding consoles—“along with control of the training room’s shielding field. The ops will let the gestalt out into the city a bit at a time. Any sign of trouble, we can pull it back and try again.”
“Trouble like people dropping dead in the street?” asked Braben. He turned to Avalon and flapped his arms against his sides. “Chief, please tell me you don’t agree with this? We can sweep the city again, get more teams out. Put agents on everything going in and out of the starport. Maybe we can find the targets without frying the minds of every unsuspecting psi-abled person in a fifty-kilometer radius.”
Avalon sighed, then folded her arms. She looked first at Braben, then at Kodiak. Kodiak wondered what was going through her mind—the same as his, most likely: fear, uncertainty, doubt. But desperate times called for desperate measures.
And … if this worked …
Finally, perhaps after giving the matter one last moment of consideration, the chief spoke.
“It’s a calculated risk,” she said. She turned to face the psi-marine officer. “You may proceed when ready, Commander.”
Kodiak exhaled the breath he’d been holding. This was it. Avalon had made the right decision.
Beside him, Braben sighed and folded his arms, but he stayed quiet.
Moustafa gave the chief a short bow, then he stepped up to the group of cadets.
“Alpha One, ten-shun,” he said, his voice suddenly loud in the circular room. Immediately the class snapped to attention, then shuffled their feet as their trainer gave the command to stand at ease. Eight fresh faces looked at the mentor. They weren’t smiling, but Kodiak could see an eagerness there, and a pride also. Alpha One. The best of the best.
“As you are aware, this is a live mission,” said Moustafa. “You have all been briefed. The psychospore of the two targets have been isolated from Academy records, so we have a good chance of tracking that back to them. Remember, the targets were psi-marines as well, like you will be. More than that, they were Alpha One as well. Whatever trouble they are in, whatever they have gotten themselves into, it’s our duty to bring them back to the fold.”
He paused and looked up and down the rank of cadets.
“I won’t lie to you,” he said. “This is beyond the normal parameters of your Academy training. But you are all aware of the recent events that have brought about these extraordinary circumstances. Extraordinary circumstances that demand extraordinary service. You have helped develop this technique, in cooperation with your ops trainers. You are more than capable of carrying out this mission to success. Is that understood?”
“Sir!” intoned the cadets.
Moustafa nodded, then gestured to the couches. “Alpha One, prepare.”
The young recruits fanned out around the center of the room, and each climbed onto a couch. As far as Kodiak could see, the couches weren’t connected to anything—no cables, no monitoring devices of any kind, save for the freestanding consoles, each of which now had a technician at station.
The eight cadets adjusted themselves, their heads all together at the center, their arms crossed over their chests. After a moment, First Sergeant Epstein nodded at the two other ops, who confirmed their readiness. She looked over at her commander.
“Alpha One, ready sir.”
Moustafa acknowledged and turned to Avalon, his eyebrows raised.
Kodiak glanced at Braben. The agent was standing on his left, his arms folded, his expression dark.
Kodiak didn’t blame him for his reluctance—this was dangerous, an experiment with so much riding on it. Alpha One were so young … but, Kodiak knew, so powerful. They could do this.
Then Kodiak glanced sideways at Avalon. She was watching the cadets, like he was, but her face was unreadable. She was the Bureau Chief, a position of considerable power within the Fleet hierarchy. But the results of this experiment were going to fall on her shoulders. She had accepted the risk, she trusted Moustafa and his team. But Kodiak thought he could understand what she was feeling, thinking—she was not just his commander, but his friend.
Moustafa’s voice snapped Kodiak out of his reverie.
“Commence psi-link. Alpha One, over to you.”
Kodiak blinked and took half a step back, his arms now folded as he watched.
The eight members of Alpha One acknowledged, and then they all closed their eyes. With arms drawn across their chests, Kodiak thought t
he scene looked a little creepy, the eight young cadets looking like war dead laid out for interment.
Minutes passed. Kodiak wasn’t entirely sure what he expected to happen, but so far nothing had. The cadets lay still on their couches. Moustafa stood watching them. The three ops at their consoles studied readouts and occasionally tapped a control. But that was it. There was no sound. No change in the light. Nothing at all.
Kodiak cleared his throat, a nervous reflex that made Moustafa turn at the sound, but the commander merely gave Kodiak a curt nod then turned back to the cadets. Kodiak felt like they had to be quiet, like they were observing some kind of ceremony or delicate operation that could not be disturbed. Which, he guessed, was actually exactly right.
They waited. The technicians stared at their consoles. The cadets remained perfectly still, hardly even breathing. Kodiak moved his eyes from one to another, sometimes thinking they had stopped breathing until, as the seconds passed, he saw their chests rise and fall in a slow rhythm. He rolled his neck again. He was feeling very much more nervous than he thought he would.
And then the cadets started moving their lips, like they were whispering. Kodiak frowned and strained to hear, but he couldn’t make anything out. Moustafa seemed to notice Kodiak’s interest and leaned in to him.
“This is quite normal,” he said quietly. “The psi-link requires immense concentration, and sometimes it helps them focus to speak the thoughts to one another.”
Kodiak nodded. “Any idea when we’ll find out if it’s working?”
Moustafa pursed his lips. “We should know soon—”
One of the cadets convulsed and screamed. One of the technicians, Corporal Holt, ducked around his console and moved to the cadet to hold him down. Kodiak started forward, but Moustafa grabbed his arm. The other seven cadets didn’t move, apparently unaware of the seizure one of their number was having.
“Psi-feedback,” said Moustafa. “Don’t worry. It can happen.” He called out to the technicians. “Epstein, report.”
“Gestalt stable,” said the First Sergeant. Then she leaned down over her console, peering at a readout. “There’s something else, though.”
The Machine Awakes Page 17
