by Jaye McKenna
His stomach growled, and he went to the cupboard to see what there was for breakfast. Blueberry Breakfast Fusion looked to be the least offensive of the lot. He couldn’t stomach Tantalizing Chicken Casserole, or Beany Fiesta. Not this early in the day. There was enough water left in the pan on the stove to make himself some instant coffee. Foul stuff, but he was running on about two hours of sleep. He’d need all the help he could get if he was going to make it through the meeting.
He pulled the plastic spork from its slot, peeled back the heat tab on the meal-pak, and waited for the temperature-sensitive sticker on the top to turn from blue to red. As he watched the color change, he flashed on breakfast with Draven when he’d worked with the man during the Alpha mission. Remembered helping himself to the elegant buffet spread DeMira’s kitchen staff had laid out, and how Draven’s breakfast had been prepared separately, perfectly circular piles of individual foods arranged around the edge of the plate, no two of them touching. He remembered how Draven had eaten, too: clockwise, finishing one pile at a time, and wiping his fork on his napkin before moving on to the next pile.
Cam peeled back the plastic cover and stirred the greyish-purple goo inside. Unidentifiable grey lumps and dark flecks that might have once had a passing acquaintance with real blueberries floated on the top. Would Draven even be able to eat this stuff? Maybe if he fished out the lumps and rinsed them off, it would be all right.
He’d forgotten about the assassin’s odd eating habits, but even if he hadn’t, this place was hardly equipped for anything but the most basic food preparation. No chiller to keep things cold. No oven. No counter space other than the kitchen table. When he’d stayed here with his father or his brothers, they’d brought coolers full of food, and built a fire in the pit around back for cooking. That wasn’t going to happen in a snowstorm.
Cam ate his breakfast without tasting it, staring at the battered surface of the table he’d helped Angus build that first summer he’d spent here. He’d been angry, bitter, and not at all certain he even wanted the life and the opportunities Angus and the Institute were offering him. When Cam had focused all his energy on finding trouble, Angus had brought him out here, where there wasn’t any trouble to be found. With infinite patience, he’d slowly won Cam’s trust and respect, and in doing so, had saved his life and set him on the path that had led him here.
Trust and respect.
Things Cam had worked damn hard to earn from the people he worked with. Things he stood to lose if anyone found out what he was doing out here. His gaze shifted across the room to the figure on the bed.
What the hell had he been thinking?
* * *
Two hours later, Cam stared at his slate screen in mute disbelief as Neil Iverson, Federation Security’s Director of Psionic Operations, laid out the task list that had come out of last night’s emergency meeting of the FedSec Aurora Command Council. Neil looked like he’d aged ten years in a single night, with bags and dark circles under his eyes. Cam apparently wasn’t the only one short on sleep.
It was a small meeting, with only himself, Neil, Kyn, and Pat Cottrell, who was the director of the psi hunter unit, the Institute’s sister organization. Everyone looked grim and tense.
Cam had his own video off, and had told them he’d been stranded by the storm and had to conserve power, which was true enough. They’d accepted his explanation without question, though the real reason was that if he activated video, Kyn would know exactly where he was.
“So, to summarize,” Neil said finally, “I’m following Senator Cottrell out to Earth as soon as I can. While I’m gone, I expect you both to recall all your field operatives. Any future ops either of your organizations have planned are hereby suspended until further notice. For their own safety, I want all operatives back here on Aurora as soon as possible. And make sure your people understand that is an order, not a suggestion, and not a request.”
“People are going to ask questions,” Cam said. “How much do you want us to tell them?”
“Nothing at the moment,” Neil said flatly. “If they ask, you can tell them the order came from me.”
Pat shook his head. “That’s not going to fly, Neil. Especially not with my undercover operatives. Two of my teams have several years invested in operations that may not be recoverable if they desert their posts. They’re not going to appreciate being ordered to drop everything and return home.”
“And they’re not stupid,” Kyn added. “They’re going to know damn well these orders are tied to the Aion Incident.”
“They can speculate all they want,” Neil said. “But until we know what the Federation Senate’s position is, that’s all it’ll be, is speculation.” He leaned forward a little. “Asada, listen up: you will notify people now, not next week or next month, or whenever the hell you think it’s convenient. I won’t be here to remind you, and the Command Council will be watching you on this, so follow orders for once, would you?”
With the video off, Cam didn’t have to hide his scowl, but he did have to make an effort to keep his tone neutral. “I’ll get on it right away, sir.”
“I’ve also been told by the Command Council to expect to be asked to hand over lists of all the psions you have working for your respective organizations. The Federation Senate is going to want names, complete contact information, abilities, and relative psionic strength.”
The words felt like lead shot raining down into the pit of Cam’s belly. Neil wore the same inscrutable expression he always did, so it was impossible to tell what the director’s true thoughts on the subject were, but the set of Pat’s shoulders and the grim frown on Kyn’s face told him their thoughts.
“For what purpose?” Pat’s tone was dangerously quiet, but his dark eyes were burning.
Neil appeared unruffled. He’d probably been expecting the question. “That information was not provided to me.”
“Speculate,” Cam said.
“I don’t need to. And I’m sure you don’t either. All three of you are intelligent enough to see where this could go.”
“I’m not handing the Senate anything that could be used to hurt my people,” Cam said flatly. “Or hunt them down.”
Neil’s hand skimmed over thinning grey-shot brown hair, and he pursed his lips before saying, “I would remind you that your job might be on the line.”
Pat let out a sharp bark of laughter. “You think that’s going to carry any weight with Cam? No offense, Cam.”
“None taken,” Cam murmured. “Pat’s right, though. If they want that data, they’re going to have to fight me for it. They’ll need a court order, at least.”
“Noted.” Neil sounded weary. “Next order of business. The Command Council wants to increase security at the Institute. A unit of the Aurora militia is on standby and will arrive as soon as the weather clears enough to transport them. I expect you to—”
“No,” Cam said flatly.
“Excuse me?” Neil’s eyes narrowed.
“I said no.” Cam managed to keep his tone even, but he was glad the video was off. His heart was pounding with an adrenaline dump that had him fidgeting in his seat. “We are not turning the Institute into an armed camp. We’ve got enough psi hunters and ex-agents in residence that I think we can keep the place secure on our own. Tell them thanks, but no thanks.”
There was a long silence before Neil said slowly, “I’ll log your protest. At the moment, it’s a recommendation, but I don’t think it would take much for the Command Council to turn it into an order.”
Pat said nothing, but all the color had drained from his face, and even on the video, Cam could make out the lines of strain around his mouth and eyes.
“That’s all I have at the moment,” Neil said. “The Command Council is waiting on the Federation Senate’s recommendations before implementing any further measures. You can probably count on having at least a month before there’s any word from Earth. Pat, I don’t suppose the senator has said anything to you?”
“No,” Pat said flatly. “My father doesn’t discuss Senate business with me.”
“Well, I’ll be talking to him soon enough, I suppose. I’ll send you each a list of recommendations before I leave. Do what you can, gentlemen, and Cam, please try not to ruffle the Command Council’s feathers while I’m gone.” Neil ended the meeting, and Cam signed out of the conference. A few seconds later, his phone buzzed with a call from Kyn.
“Cam, what the fuck?” Kyn sounded like he was in a panic. “You need to get your ass back here right now.”
“Settle down,” Cam said. “Nothing more is going to happen until the senator returns. All we need to do right now is recall the search-and-rescue teams.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
“Talk to Miko,” Cam said, choosing his words carefully. Phone conversations could be monitored far too easily, though Miko usually made sure nothing Cam said made it into anyone’s data logs. “Have him run a security check. Tell him it’s critical, and that we can’t afford a data breach of any kind.”
“I’ll make sure he knows,” Kyn said. “When are you coming home?”
“As soon as the storm blows itself out. What are the forecasts saying?”
“Should clear out the day after tomorrow.”
“Then you’ve got your answer. Leave me a message if anything comes up that you don’t feel up to handling. I’m not leaving you high and dry, but I’m not someplace where I can charge my phone. I’ll check messages every few hours. Okay?”
“Okay. Got it.”
“And… if anyone asks, tell them I’m fine. I’m warm and safe.”
“But you’re not going to tell me where.”
“No. I’m not.”
There was a long silence before Kyn cut the call. Cam put his phone down on the table and rubbed his face.
* * *
The drug haze had been nice, but it didn’t last nearly long enough. All too soon, the comfortable glow wore off, and the pain began to creep back in. Cameron’s vid-conference and the phone call that followed sounded important, so Draven kept his mouth shut until Cameron finally set his phone down and dropped his head into his hands.
“That sounded… dire,” Draven commented.
Cameron twisted around to look at him with tired eyes. “Heard it all, did you?”
“Enough to know the… Federation Senate’s involved. Not enough to know… what started it.” Enough to know Cameron wasn’t telling his boss or his colleagues where he was and what he was doing, too. Interesting.
“What started it was the destruction of an illegal research center operating out of a supposedly abandoned mining base on Aion.” Cameron regarded him intently. “You were there. What can you tell me about that?”
“How did you know I was… Oh. Miko.”
Cameron didn’t confirm or deny the source of his knowledge. He fixed Draven with a hard stare and waited.
“I…” Draven closed his eyes. “I don’t… actually remember the… the event itself.”
“Let me fill you in.” Cameron sounded grim. “Somebody leaked video of a psion calling lightning down to destroy the base. Now the public is demanding that the Senate pass legislation to protect them from the psion menace. And while I would love to get on the net and set the record straight with some facts about how rare it is to find a psion strong enough to be any kind of threat, my superiors would prefer to keep our existence a secret. Apparently consorting with psions is bad enough, but admitting to sheltering them could be construed as an act of political suicide. Who knew?”
Draven had forgotten about Cameron’s dry sense of humor. The bark of laughter escaped before he could stop it. Hot pain ripped across his abdomen, and he hissed and dropped his head back down on the pillow, trying to take shallow breaths.
“Sorry. I’ll try not to make you laugh. That must hurt.” A moment later, Cameron was next to the bed. “Let me take a look.”
Without waiting for an answer, Cameron pulled the covers down and inspected the dressing. Draven flashed on a hazy memory of Cameron cleaning him up in the night and apologizing for hurting him.
“Looks like it’s been bleeding. I should probably change the dressing before it dries out and sticks.” Cameron tugged at the tape holding the gauze in place and slowly peeled it away.
Draven craned his neck to watch as Cameron sponged the dried blood away. The wound looked clean, at least.
“Well, that doesn’t look so bad,” Cameron said, echoing his own thoughts. “Doesn’t look infected, anyway.”
The relief in the man’s voice perplexed him. Wouldn’t it have been easier for Cameron if he’d died?
“You… why are you taking care of me?” Draven blurted out.
Cameron didn’t look at him as he covered the wound with a fresh piece of gauze. “You asked for my help.” Dark brown eyes lifted and met Draven’s.
“DeMira would never have taken care of me like this.” The words were out before Draven could stop them, and he regretted them instantly. He couldn’t afford to drop his guard for a second, even if he was doped to the eyebrows.
Cameron looked away and busied himself repacking the medical supplies. “I’m not DeMira,” he said in a terse voice.
“No,” Draven whispered. “You’re not.”
When he’d finished putting things away, Cameron squatted down in front of the stove and added more wood to the fire. Draven took the opportunity to look around. He was lying in bed in a primitive, single-room cabin. No electricity from the looks of things, and no hot water, judging from the hand pump by the sink.
“Do you think you could handle some food?” Cameron asked.
Draven considered that. He didn’t feel sick. In fact, now that Cameron mentioned it, he thought he might be hungry. “I could try.”
“You get a choice. Blueberry Breakfast Fusion, Scrumptious Beef Stew, Tantalizing Chicken Casserole, Beany Fiesta, or Pasta Surprise.”
“What’s the surprise?”
“I’m not sure.” Cameron gave him a wry grin. “I haven’t been brave enough to investigate.”
“I’ll try it.”
“I… it’s all mixed up,” Cameron said. “They all are. I didn’t think of that when I was stocking the place.”
For a moment, Draven wasn’t sure what he meant, but then he remembered the obsessive mealtime rituals that Cameron would have observed back on Alpha.
Before Miko had taught him how to deal with the mythe, the things they said about DeMira’s crazy shooter had been true. And after… Draven had done all he could to pour oil on the flames of those rumors. Anything to keep the dangerous men he worked with afraid and off-balance.
It was the only way to protect himself.
“It’s about control, Cameron, not self-destruction.”
“Control.” Cameron didn’t look the least bit convinced. “What’s your control now? Because this whole situation looks pretty damned out of control to me.”
Draven raised his eyes and met Cameron’s gaze steadily, but he didn’t say anything. Cameron looked away first.
“I’ll eat it,” Draven said.
There was a long pause, and then Cameron said, “Let’s get you sitting up, then. Can you manage that?”
Draven started to pull himself up. It hurt like hell, and Cameron ended up having to help him. Once he was upright, Cameron set extra pillows behind him to support him. When he was settled, Cameron went to the cupboard and drew out a meal-pak.
“You said you didn’t think… when you were stocking the place,” Draven said. “What does that mean? How did you know…?”
Instead of answering right away, Cameron busied himself getting a meal-pak heated and scooping the contents into a bowl. Draven wondered why he was bothering.
“Miko,” Cameron said as he brought the bowl and a fork to Draven. “He told me you were coming a week ago. Said you would be hurting. And that you’d need a place to stay. Nobody comes out here, and I figured if I got the place cleaned up and stocked,
I could hide you here until I figure out what to do with you.”
What to do with you.
That sounded ominous. Was Cameron going to turn him in to FedSec after all? No… if that was what he planned, he wouldn’t be lying to his bosses, and Draven would have woken up in a FedSec medical facility, shackled to the bed like he had been the last time he’d been caught.
Draven turned his attention to the food, taking small bites and waiting a little between each mouthful. When the first few bites went down without incident, he finished it off in short order.
“Did you figure out what the surprise was?” Cameron asked as he took the empty bowl and fork away.
“The lack of meat was somewhat surprising. As was the rather conspicuous lack of flavor.”
Cameron’s mouth curved in a small smile. “I didn’t realize you had a sense of humor. Never saw it on Alpha.”
“A sense of humor is a necessity when one’s life isn’t particularly amusing. People to share it with, however, are usually a liability.”
Cameron rinsed out the bowl and returned to his side, pulling a chair up next to the bed. “How do you feel?” he asked as he sat.
“Hurts.” Was this going to be an interrogation? He hoped not. He wasn’t feeling up to fielding difficult questions.
“The wound? Or do you need more riptide?”
“Both. But I… I need to wait for the riptide. As long as I can hold out.”
“Okay.” Cameron’s eyes met his. “You want a shot for the pain?”
Draven licked his lips. It was tempting, but if Cameron was going to start asking questions, he needed to stay sharp, and pain meds would only muddle his thinking. “Not yet. I don’t… I don’t like how it makes me feel.”
“Yeah, I hear that. Let me know when you need it, then.” Cameron leaned back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest. “What happened to get you hooked on riptide?”
