“What do you make of what David said?” he finally asked. “The screaming, the terror? What’s going on in the collectives?”
Doc sighed. “It was a chilling description, wasn’t it? The collectives are forcibly absorbing people. It’s a brutal business, nothing less than neurological rape. We’ve heard stories of parents whose children are being attacked. If the parents are too strong and the collectives can’t absorb them, they are simply killed. Then the children are forced into the collective. Imagine the terror of a child who has just watched loved ones be murdered then had a foreign entity drill into their heads and steal their thoughts. I think everyone in the collective can feel the terror and exploitation of the victims. David’s conscience wouldn’t allow him to stay in the hive any longer. Others may feel the same, but they aren’t strong enough to break away as he did.”
Nathaniel nodded thoughtfully. “He may be the missing link.”
“I agree, but he’s only one of many. He will provide valuable information, but we still don’t have a Deceiver, and the prophecy remains ambiguous. But then you didn’t come here to muse on this. It’s merely something unexpected that crossed your path. So.” Doc leaned forward. “What do you have to tell me?”
Nathaniel turned serious as he began.
***
“Okay, let’s try this again.”
Maggie opened her eyes. She was trying to move a crate again, but for the third time had succeeded only in blowing it to smithereens. The force of her own shot had thrown her back against the wall.
Nat was crawling out from under a table he’d dived toward for cover.
Maggie got unsteadily to her feet and sighed, massaging her right temple with her fingers. “I’m sorry, Mr. Strellend. This isn’t working.”
“It’s Nat, Maggie. And we haven’t been at this very long. You can’t give up yet.” He studied her for several seconds. “Do you know what I think the problem is?”
She shook her head.
“You have an inferiority complex.”
“Inferiority complex?”
“Yes. You’re overcompensating.”
“Isn’t that a male problem?”
Nat ignored her. “On some level, you don’t believe in your own power. You see yourself as small, incapable. So you’re putting everything you have into this.”
Maggie didn’t respond. Nat was uncomfortably close to the truth. She’d been exploring her abilities for a month, but she still felt like a baby just learning to walk who was expected to dance the tango in a few days. She didn’t let on about it, but everything about this plan, this mission—this life—made her nervous.
“Now don’t get me wrong,” Nat was saying. “It’s not necessarily a bad thing. For someone who’s small or untalented, putting their all into something is the way to make something of themselves. But Maggie”—he came to stand in front of her and took her hands in his—“that’s not you. You aren’t small or untalented. You have more power than you can imagine. You must learn to control it.”
“I’m trying.”
“Close your eyes, Maggie.”
She frowned up at him.
“Just do it.”
She obeyed. She was being difficult, but they’d been at this for an hour with only a handful of crates reduced to kindling to show for it. Maggie felt tired and crabby.
“Now.” Nat walked around behind her, his voice in her ear. “You have to get it out of your head that you are inadequate. You’re not. You have more power in you than you can conceive of. Know that. Feel that.”
Maggie opened her eyes and turned around. “It’s not that I don’t think I have power, Nat. I’ve seen it.” She swept her hand out, indicating the room full of wooden shrapnel. “But I’m not prepared. I don’t know anything yet. What if I can’t…can’t…?”
“Stop thinking like that, Maggie. You have more Offensive power than anyone we’ve ever come across. Learn to let yourself be a leader.”
“But—”
“No, listen to me. No matter what you’ve thought up to this point, no matter why, forget it. Believe in your own power, in your own strength. Turn around. Shut your eyes again.”
Not really seeing the point, but out of arguments, Maggie obeyed.
“Now, I want you to do what you’ve done before. Call the energy to you.”
Maggie did. In their first lesson Karl told her to visualize it. Now she was beginning to feel something familiar each time she did it. It felt like a rushing wind in her chest that echoed in her eardrums. Wind, except she couldn’t hear it—she could only feel it. When it came, her heartbeat quickened, and her breathing became deeper.
“Good. Now hold it there for a second. Now I want you to imagine the immensity of the power you are holding. It is so great that you must hold most of it back. Siphon off just a trickle of it—imagine a tiny straw it might flow through. Now”—he pressed a cold, smooth, flat stone in her hand—“keep your eyes closed, put your hand out in front of you, and push that trickle of power through the conduit stone. Use it to nudge the crate.”
Maggie opened her eyes just in time to see the crate fly off the table and slam into wall behind it. It slammed hard enough to elicit a loud crack from the wooden crate, but that was it. She hadn’t blown it to smithereens! Her mouth fell open.
Behind her Nat laughed out loud and slapped her on the back hard enough to jar her organs against her ribs. “There you go!”
“I still slammed it against the wall.”
“Kinky.” It was Karl’s voice coming from the doorway.
Maggie turned to see him grinning broadly at her.
“I see we’re making progress.”
Maggie shrugged. “Not really. I still almost broke it.”
“Almost broke it, Maggie, but you didn’t actually,” Nat said. “It may not be perfect, but the crate is all in one piece. Now, I want you to do that again. Each time I want you to try to use less. If by the end of the day you can get to the point that you can just nudge the crate—”
“Which is not the same thing as abusing it,” Karl put in.
“—then you’ll have made real progress.”
Nat crossed the room, picked up the crate, and put it back on the pockmarked table.
Maggie nodded wearily. She would be at this for a long time yet. She turned around to look at Karl, who was leaning against the doorway folding his arms.
“You just gonna stand there and make fun of me all day?”
He held his hands up, grinned, then strode from the room.
Maggie turned back to her task. She imagined pulling the power to her again. Her heart rate quickened, and her breathing deepened.
“Wait ‘til I get behind you!” Nat dove for cover once more.
***
Maggie didn’t know how many hours she’d been practicing with Nat when Joan came in. She told them that dinner would be served soon but that Doc wanted Maggie to swing by Medical first. Then she took a closer look at Maggie.
“You all right, Maggie? You don’t look so good.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”
“She really ought to practice up until dinner.”
Joan glared at Nat. “Well, she can’t. Doc needs her, and she’s obviously exhausted. We aren’t leaving for two more days. She can practice more tomorrow.” Without another word, Joan put an arm around Maggie and guided her toward the door.
Once they got out into the corridor, she turned Maggie to face her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, of course. I’ve just been at this all day.”
Joan scrutinized her before nodding. “I’m sorry I can’t go with you. I need to find Lila. Will you be okay getting to Medical by yourself?”
Maggie forced a laugh. “Of course I will be. Stop worrying.” She gave Joan a quick hug. “Go find Lila.”
She watched Joan go around the corner before turning to go to Medical. She didn’t want Joan to know how exhausted she really was. She trudged through the corridors, concentrating on putting
one foot in front of the other. Had Medical always been this far from the cargo bay?
As Maggie neared the door to Medical, she heard voices she immediately recognized.
“Marcus. Think we ought to talk sometime? Haven’t seen you in ten years.”
“Whose fault is that?” Marcus sounded angry.
“Not yours. Of course. But we’re here now.”
“You mean you’re here now.”
Maggie peaked around the corner to see David nod.
“So you are.” Marcus turned toward a door across the room from Maggie.
“Can’t you just…curse? Or fight? Or something other than this…silent treatment?”
Marcus turned his head to the side but kept his body facing toward the door. “You want me to do something to make you feel better?” he asked quietly.
“No. I want you to get it out. Know you hate me—”
Maggie saw Marcus shut his eyes, face pained.
“Know you’re angry…rightfully so. But isn’t it…better to get it out now before you go on…mission where you need to be…emotionally stable?”
Marcus did turn toward David then, eyes flaring. “Don’t tell me how I need to be on a mission. You know nothing about it.”
“Know you’re already…unstable anyway. Because of her.”
Marcus clenched his fists. “Excuse me?”
“Maggie. You have…feelings for her. You have feelings for her, and she doesn’t remember you.”
Marcus’s jaw clenched and his arms shook.
David took a deep breath and shook his head. “Not a good idea, Marcus. You must…understand what her…role in the prophecy is.”
“I know what her role in the prophecy is!”
“She’ll…die trying to bring down the Unions. That’s…understood.”
“That’s your prophecy, not mine. And I do not accept that.”
David shook his head again. “No. It’s not one prophecy or the other, Marcus. That’s what…trying to tell you. If we…the Uni—collectives, win, it’s because they’ll kill her to make sure she can’t destroy them. If you win, she’ll destroy herself bringing down the…collectives. Either way, your feelings…putting the team and the mission at stake.”
“I won’t let her die.” Marcus grated through clenched teeth. Even from her hiding place, Maggie could see that his vision was misty.
“Everyone dies sometime,” David said quietly.
“That’s easy for you to say. You haven’t been around. You weren’t there when our father died. He whispered your name—yours and our mother’s—on his death pallet. But you couldn’t deal with emotion, good or bad, so you took the coward’s way out and chose not to deal with it at all.”
“Yes. And we make no excuses for that.”
Marcus stared at his younger brother, tears escaping down his cheeks. “No excuses, or no apologies?”
David sighed. “Neither. Don’t regret what…happened. Maybe it was the cowardly thing to do, but…was what we had to do. Was logical. Easier to live in a collective mind. We still believe that.”
“Then why come out at all?”
“Because what they’re doing isn’t right!”
David made the outcry while looking Marcus straight in the eye. It was the first full sentence Maggie had heard David say with that kind of conviction. He immediately looked wary and lowered his voice.
“Father instilled a sense of morality that…couldn’t ignore. Marcus”—David stepped closer to Marcus and put a hand on his own chest—“know how much wrong has been done to…you. And father. He’s gone now, and…can never make amends to him, but…here with you, now. Don’t expect you to trust or like…us right away. Have to earn that. But would rather you yelled and cursed—but talked—than keep…avoiding… us like this.”
“So what? You’ve gone from being a coward to a coward with a morality complex?”
David looked at Marcus steadily, his gaze never wavering. “If that’s the way you need to see it, then yes. Will always tell you the truth, brother. Never was a liar. Maybe a coward, but at least was…up front about it.”
Marcus guffawed, and David held up his hands.
“Not something to brag about, but it is the truth. And…will always give it to you straight, even when you don’t want to hear it.”
“Leave Maggie out of this.”
“Can’t. She’s too important. And she’s not for you.”
Marcus clenched his teeth, balled his fist, and struck. His blow connected solidly and sent his younger brother sprawling. David twisted mid-air and landed on his side.
Maggie clamped a hand over her mouth and hid behind the wall again, praying neither of the men had heard her. She held her breath, wondering if she should intervene, but something told her this was a situation that needed to remain between brothers. After twenty seconds, Maggie gathered her courage and peered into the room again. Neither brother was looking in her direction.
David sat up on one elbow. Blood trickled from his nose, over his lips, and down his chin.
He didn’t try to get up. He just looked at Marcus, expressionless. After a moment, he dropped his gaze. Maggie didn’t think it wasn’t out of deference but out of defeat.
Marcus fell into a crouch at his brother’s feet. “Get up, David.” He said it quietly, but not with menace.
David’s eyes rose to Marcus, and there was surprise in his face.
“Get up,” he said again when David didn’t answer.
“Why?” David muttered. “What’s the…point?”
“If you want me to respect you and trust you as an individual, then you’ve got to start acting like one. No matter how hard it is or what the consequences are, you’ve got to get up on your own. So get up.”
David stared at the ground for several seconds, and Maggie didn’t think he would do it. Finally he turned over and pushed himself up onto all fours. He stayed there for several seconds. Then he sat back on his knees and slowly dragged one knee up until he could put his foot flat on the floor. He put his hands on his knee and tried to push himself up to his feet. It took several tries. Tears escaped his eyes and scurried down his cheeks. When he was standing straight, he lifted his chin and put his shoulders back. Only then did he turn to face Marcus.
Maggie thought David looked a little taller. Marcus swallowed several times but didn’t say anything. He nodded at his brother then turned and left the room.
***
Maggie counted to sixty before entering the room, trying to look casual. The man across the room digging into a box of medical supplies was David. At first she thought it was Marcus—David did look a lot like him—but he was shorter and stockier with slightly lighter hair.
“David?”
He whirled to face her. There was a line of dried blood from his nose to the tip of his chin.
“David, what happened?” She crossed to him, hoping she sounded genuine.
“Uh…had a little run in.”
“With what?”
He shrugged. “Someone’s fist.”
Maggie sighed. “Is that someone Marcus?”
He looked down at his feet but didn’t answer.
“Here.” Maggie took the towel out his hands. “Let me help you.”
She found an open bottle of what smelled like rubbing alcohol and put some on the rag then began wiping the blood away. They both sat on one of the examination beds, legs hanging over the side.
“Why’d he hit you?”
“Was a long time in coming. He feels abandoned because…went over to the Unio—collective.”
Maggie suddenly felt awkward. He spoke nonchalantly, but this was a personal issue between him and Marcus. She tried to think of a way to change the subject, but nothing came to mind, and she had only what he’d said to work off of for conversation.
“Did you abandon them?”
He gazed at her with steady eyes. “Yes.”
He was very close to her, and his piercing eyes made her uncomfortable. She kept her
eyes on the blood she was wiping off his jaw.
“Why come back now?”
“Couldn’t condone what they were doing anymore.”
“Yeah, but I don’t understand. When you’re in the collective, can’t everyone hear every thought you have? Why didn’t they know what you were planning?”
He shook his head. “Hard to explain. They do know everything you think. So when…started realizing that couldn’t be a part of it anymore, had to be careful not to think it. More like a feeling. And then the first time we…thought it, decision was made. Once the thought was there, had to act. Otherwise, would have been punished.”
“Punished how?”
He gave her a tight smile and studied his hands. She realized he had no intention of answering, so she changed the subject.
“Why’d you decide to go into the collective in the first place?”
“Thought it would be easier.”
“But it wasn’t?”
“It was. Don’t agree with what the collectives are doing, but as a way of living, still prefer it.”
Maggie frowned. “Why?”
“Just easier. There are always others…to share pain and…life with. No loneliness, no uncertainty, no vulnerability.”
“But there’s no privacy either, right? Always voices in your head?”
He shrugged. “Yes, but…get used to it, eventually.”
Maggie thought about that. She thought about everything she’d been told about him and what had happened before. She didn’t understand his reasoning, but then she didn’t think even he fully understood it. But it wasn’t her place to say anything.
He was staring at her again. She gave him a fleeting smile and then averted her eyes. She hopped the short distance from the bed to the floor and started to cross the room, looking for a place to put the soiled towel. She got half a step before he grabbed her wrist and turned her back to face him.
“If…have something to say, say it.” There was no anger or even challenge in his voice. It was a simple statement.
He reminded her of Marcus in that way. They both had a way about them, a calm steadiness that bored into her soul.
She looked down at his hand clasped around her wrist. She didn’t want to offend him, and she didn’t know if she could say this without doing just that.
Persistence of Vision Page 19
