Vellus’s lips were moving again, but my ears were full of the white noise of defeat. Would it matter if I killed him? The kindly politician with the winning smile, trying to help a young mindjacker only to be killed by her. Vellus would become the martyr. The public would eat up that story with their morning cereal while Kestrel poisoned us with whatever he had cooked up in his genetics lab.
Kestrel eyed me from the door. He knew—knew all along—what the end game was. He had captured his own kind and experimented on them to develop the poison Vellus would use to control us.
President Vellus. That’s what my dad had said, and I could see it now. Vellus would be the man who solved the jacker problem without genocide. Who kept the mindjacker population docile, fenced in, and under control, so mindreaders could sleep easy at night.
Jackers were doomed anyway—should I take Vellus’s offer to be one of the few who didn’t end up behind bars? Give up my foolish pride and finally, once and for all, save my family from the danger I had brought into their lives? Or should I kill Vellus and have the end come swift and final for me?
I reached down deep inside, not in my mind, but in my heart to search for the answer. There was none. So I went with the hard diamond of hate cutting into my soul. Even if I couldn’t stop Vellus’s plans, I could at least make him pay for them.
Just as I came to this decision, a flicker of movement across the room grabbed my attention. In a blur, my dad lunged for the gun holstered on the guard next to him.
“No!” The word ripped from my throat. The guard grabbed for the dart gun. A pop-whoosh sound ripped the air. Vellus and the tru-caster ducked, but the dart hadn’t found its target. I plunged into my dad’s mind. Whatever crazy plan he had would only get him killed. Kestrel was already there, trying to jack my dad. I shoved Kestrel out. My dad kept wrestling with the guard. The dart gun waved in the air, but the guard’s meaty hands were clamped over my dad’s, keeping him from firing. The second guard, the one with the real gun, inched forward. My dad's thoughts showed that was part of his plan. To remove himself as leverage for Vellus.
Tears sprung to my eyes. Dad, stop! I linked to him. Suddenly, my dad’s mind whirled in confusion. He stopped fighting. The guard quickly shoved him to the floor, and my dad lay limp under his knee, blinking rapidly and wondering what could possibly have possessed him to want to attack the senator, the man he had risked his life mindguarding for years.
What the….? My eyes went wide. Someone was handling my dad.
Kestrel shoved back into my dad’s head, now controlling him completely, but it was unnecessary. The first guard was cursing and sweating, but he had my dad fully under his control on the floor. The second guard still had his weapon out, in case my dad lunged up from the floor again, but my dad wasn’t going anywhere. He had already given up. It wasn’t Kestrel who had handled him, and both guards had anti-jacker helmets. The only other people in the room were the tru-cast reporter, the cameraman, and… Vellus.
He was staring intently at my father. Anyone else might have thought it was a look of hatred or perhaps fear that froze his face into a mask of concentration. But I knew exactly what it was.
Vellus was handling him.
I quickly wrenched my gaze away from Vellus and stared at my hands in my lap.
Vellus was a jacker. A mindjacker. How could I possibly not have seen this until now?
His meteoric rise as a politician made complete sense if he was a handler. Just like Julian, he could slip into people’s minds and control their instincts, creating that reflexive feeling of trust. They would never know they were being messed with. When Sasha and I tried to take Vellus the first time, I thought there had been another mindguard, but there hadn’t. It had been Vellus all along. When he was attacked, he was forced to defend himself, like now, when my dad had nearly shot him.
But how had Julian forced Vellus to release the prisoners last summer? Could one handler handle another? At the time, Vellus had accused me of jacking him, but if he was a handler himself, he had to know what had really happened.
A sudden doubt clouded over me. Before, at the Trib Tower, I had linked in to Vellus’s mind and read his thoughts. He had appeared to be a normal mindreader.
I lifted my gaze from my twisting hands to peer at Vellus. He blinked a couple of times, took a deep breath, then put on a smile, turning back to the tru-caster with a word of reassurance and tossing a warning glare to me. I reached out and pushed through his mindbarrier. It was as soft as a changeling’s, exactly like a mindreader’s would be.
Are you all right, Senator? I linked to him. He slowly turned to me, and I met his gaze full on.
Thank you for your concern, Ms. Moore. His thoughts echoed in his head. Perhaps you could convince your father to cooperate, at least until the tru-cast is finished?
The echo was even stronger the second time, and I had the same feeling of being in a big empty room with his thoughts broadcast in from the outside. Exactly like Julian when he pulled back his defenses and allowed me into his mind.
And Vellus had no mindscent at all.
He turned back to the tru-cast reporter, as if nothing had happened. He was back to pretending he was simply a mindreader.
Now I knew exactly what to do.
I didn’t have to kill Vellus.
In fact, killing him was the last thing from my mind, now. Instead, I would make him pay in the worst possible way: by forcing him to destroy all his own plans and dreams. A warm glow of satisfaction spread through me. It was the sure feeling you get when you know you’ve made the right choice—something you did on instinct alone, but if you had a thousand years to contemplate the possible outcomes, you would still do the same thing.
“We… we’re almost ready to go live, Senator.” The tru-cast reporter’s eyes were still wide from the scuffle with my dad, which had lasted mere seconds before he was contained on the floor.
Subdued, like Vellus wanted to do to all jackers.
“I’m sorry for the drama, Ms. Trinkle,” said Vellus. “I’m afraid Ms. Moore’s father doesn’t share her enthusiasm for seeing dangerous jackers restrained so that they can’t threaten anyone else.”
My dad stared at his shoes, the confused look still on his face. The guard stood next to him, a hand on my dad’s shoulder, in case he decided to make a move. Which of course he wouldn’t. Then Vellus gave me a pointed look, waiting for me to respond. Waiting to see if I would carry through with the tru-cast.
“My father,” I said in a confident voice, filled with the rightness of my decision, “doesn’t understand the stakes like I do. We don’t agree on many things, not least what I’m about to do here today. Which just means we should get on with it, don’t you think?”
Vellus smiled broadly, and the tru-cast reporter nodded uncertainly. I linked to the boom mic over my head, then into Vellus’s and the reporter’s minds. Her first name popped up. Sandy. The mindware interface of the mic had a slight metallic taste, and the reporter’s mindscent reminded me of lemon tea. It was light, but it was still there.
Vellus, of course, had no mindscent at all.
Sandy, I linked to her, making her aware that I was in her head. I think we should do this by thought waves, don’t you?
Yes! At least, she looked at the senator, I thought that was the arrangement.
Senator Vellus chimed in, his words still echoing like his head was an empty cavern. That would be best. Most reassuring to your viewers, I would think.
You don’t mind me linking into your mind, do you? I asked her.
Um, no, that’s… fine. Sandy’s thoughts had the same uneasy shifting that every mindreader had once they realized that mindjackers had to jack into their head to read their thoughts. I resisted throwing a smirk at Vellus, who was doing precisely the same thing to her as he had with every mindreader he had ever known, only Sandy didn’t know it. Like Julian, Vellus was just a linker—with the caveat of also being the most insidiously powerful kind of jacker, able to control
your instincts but completely without detection.
You see, jackers can’t read minds, I explained to Sandy, enjoying how much my thoughts sounded like the professor voice Julian used. We have to physically reach into your mind to interface with your mindfield. Normally, I wouldn’t do such a thing without asking, especially with a fellow mindjacker, who wouldn’t care for that at all. This time, I couldn’t resist a small glance at Vellus. Most mindreaders I know don’t like it either. Are you sure this is all right with you?
She stumbled over a flash of fear, then steeled herself with her journalistic nerves. A fleeting thought of how important this interview was helped her sit taller in her chair.
Absolutely, she thought. No problem.
Thank you. Then I turned inward to my own mind. Holding a conversation while slowly getting my body into its hyped state would be tricky. And I couldn’t afford the blowback, so I would need to make my moves fast and minimal.
The calm stillness of my mind surprised me. It took no time at all to float down the elevator and slip into the depths, as if I belonged there. I was a skilled explorer traveling a well-worn path.
Outwardly, I took a deep breath and let it out slow. Are we live on this tru-cast, Ms. Trinkle? I asked, just to make sure. It would be most effective that way.
She circled a finger in the air, signaling to the cameraman. We will be momentarily.
While she paused a beat, I dropped down to the mass of connections in my mind. Someday, if I lived through this, I was going to explore each and every one. That idea felt simultaneously impossible and wondrous with potential. My life was at a tipping point: the most important thing I would ever do would happen in the next minute or two. Anything after that would simply be a bonus, like presents when it wasn’t your birthday. Or finding a boy to love when you only expected a hero.
I took another calming breath and gripped the edge of my seat. It probably looked like nervousness on the outside, but I was simply preparing to hide the jittery state that would soon overtake me. I searched for the thread and quickly found it, like an old friend in a crowd of strangers at the airport just waiting to pick me up and take me home.
And we’re live, Ms. Trinkle thought. Thank you so much for joining me today, Ms. Moore. I’m honored to have you in your first public appearance since your famous announcement to the world that revealed the mindjackers hidden among us.
Breathe in, follow the thread. The honor is mine, I linked with complete sincerity. Vellus was staring at me. He shifted in his seat and crossed his legs. His mind was an echo chamber, hiding his true thoughts. But no matter.
Much has changed since you first helped those changelings at the military hospital, Sandy thought. And I’d like to hear your thoughts on the status of mindjackers today, but first, can you tell us how it is that you, yourself, needed rescuing earlier today from a terrorist band of mindjackers that had taken over the Hawthorne Water Pumping Station?
It’s true that I was part of the mindjacker group who took over the station, I linked to her, Vellus, and millions of mindreaders via the boom mic. The idea was to negotiate the release of mindjackers being held in Senator Vellus’s Detention Center.
Follow the thread to the end. Send the signal. The electric ping zipped through my body, flipping every muscle to fast-twitch. I would need all of them, not just my leg muscles.
Yes, we know, Sandy thought. Those demands made by the jacker terrorists were cast everywhere.
I knew that Kira wouldn’t voluntarily be mixed up with those revolutionary mindjackers, Vellus cut in. Which is why I helped to negotiate her release from the mindjacker group holding the station as quickly as I could.
Muscles sang throughout my body as they converted over. I took another breath and let it out through my teeth, trying to make no sound. I was glad to come out, so that I could help negotiate terms. I wanted the crisis to have a safe ending for everyone involved. I sounded like hostage negotiator Sergeant Lenny Lee now. Julian would be so proud of how well I dissembled in the service of the cause. I triggered a surge of adrenaline as I rose up out of the depths of my mind, which only made my legs vibrate against the cushion of my seat.
And you brought out half the mindreader hostages with you! the reporter gushed. You’re a hero once again.
I hoped she would take my shaky smile for humility. It was really all the muscles in my body, including my face, fully juiced and ready to move.
I’m not a hero, I linked. Just trying to do the right thing. Trying to find a way to peace for jackers and mindreaders alike.
Vellus frowned slightly. I had to grip the chair harder to keep my body from flying off. My fingers dug into the smooth fabric of the cushion.
I was very impressed, I continued, that Senator Vellus was so concerned for the safety of all jackers and readers involved. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, Senator Vellus is a mindjacker.
Um… what? Sandy asked, as if she had misheard my thoughts. Which was funny all by itself, but I wasn’t capable of smiling without it looking deranged. Vellus was caught in the shock of my thoughts but not yet reacting to them.
Senator Vellus is a mindjacker, I repeated, looking him straight in the eyes. He’s a special kind, called a handler, that can control your instincts for survival. It’s a rare and powerful ability that’s very difficult to detect. But he’s really one of us, so it makes sense that he would be protective of mindjackers as well as mindreaders.
Vellus’s face went white, then red, then an odd kind of purple, almost like a chameleon hyped up on one of Julian’s jacker adrenaline drugs. He sent out a booming wave of mental laughter. That’s very funny, Ms. Moore. He turned a glinting smile on the reporter, who had lost all color in her face. Of course, I’m not a mindjacker.
Well, you could get tested, I linked. Don’t you have testing centers now that take care of that sort of thing, Senator Vellus? A simple test would prove whether you were, or were not, a mindjacker. Small tearing sounds came from the chair where my fingernails cut into the fabric.
Vellus gripped the arms of his own chair, turning back to the reporter. I didn’t agree to this interview to come here and be insulted, he thought, as if it were her fault. She shrank into her chair. This interview is over! He was halfway out of his seat when the reporter signaled wildly to the cameraman to cut the tru-cast feed.
That was my cue.
I launched out of my chair and leaped off the elevated interview platform. I made it half way across the room in a single pent-up bound, my foot hitting the floor a quarter second later. My mind had already slowed down time so I could control my limbs as I hurtled toward the guard at the far door. I only got two steps before launching myself into the air again, leading with both boots forward. That landed a punch to the gut which slammed the guard into the wall and forced all the air from his body. I landed hard on my shoulder, but my muscles were taut like rubber bands, so I bounced off the floor and managed to arch back onto my feet. I grabbed the gun from the stunned guard and unfastened the strap of his helmet at the same time, then shoved the helmet off his head. I jacked him unconscious before he started to slide down the wall.
I turned and pointed the gun at Kestrel.
Everyone else in the room, including Kestrel, was still reacting to my sudden movement and had lost track of where I was.
I fired. The sound of the shot exploded in the close confines of the pressroom. Kestrel flew backward, my aim dead on.
I flung my mind into my dad’s head, and as I had hoped, Kestrel’s control had been broken, and Vellus’s concentration was disrupted by the gunfire and my sudden flight across the room. I couldn’t wait for my dad to figure it out, so I jacked him to grab the holstered dart gun of the guard next to him, and with another round of unerring Moore aim, he shot Vellus.
The reporter screamed.
Vellus stared at the dart sticking out of his chest. Then he slumped in his seat, eyes glazed. I knocked out Sandy and her cameraman, so I wouldn’t have to worry
about them. I trained my gun on the guard now struggling with my dad over the dart gun, but I couldn’t get a good shot with them twisting and turning and slamming against the wall like one body with four arms and legs and the dart gun at the heart of it. My dad’s hands were still bound and he was quickly sliding to the losing end of the fight.
I dropped my arm and ran at them instead, my legs stuttering, but arriving with enough speed to knock the guard pretty good with the anti-jacker helmet in my hand. It bounced off his helmet and left him momentarily stunned. I stumbled to a stop, turned back, dropping my helmet and grabbing his. The guard let go of my dad long enough to grab at the helmet with both hands, more terrified of losing it, apparently, than whatever my dad might do.
My dad shot him with the dart gun.
I stepped back as the guard slumped to the floor, the helmet still half-on and protecting his head from bouncing on the thin industrial carpeting of the pressroom.
My dad and I looked at each other over the guard’s body. Disbelief burned in his eyes, and I thought maybe a little pride. In spite of the fact that I had just jacked him into shooting his boss. Or perhaps because of it.
But we were far from out of danger, much less out of the Detention Center.
“Nice shooting,” I said to my dad.
He smiled.
Then my body shook. The tremors had kicked in as soon as I stopped moving, but the blowback was still ramping up. I had run more than I had planned. I closed my eyes, diving back into my head to shift my muscles back to normal. The fast-twitch muscles flipped back to slow, giving an extra shimmy to the shakes. I pumped up my heart rate and dosed myself with a little more adrenaline to try to accelerate the process.
I opened my eyes again. My legs buzzed, and the floor of the pressroom seemed to tip. My knees buckled, and I tripped over the fallen guard at my feet. I caught myself with one hand on the wall and managed not to fall into my dad. He braced my shoulder with his bound hands as best he could. His gaze darted over me, looking for some injury. I wasn’t hurt, but I prayed the blowback wouldn’t get any worse.
Free Souls (Book Three of the Mindjack Trilogy) Page 17
