by Jaye McKenna
Cam kissed him and left him to finish showering. He dressed in the suit he’d hung in the closet in anticipation of something like this, then slipped back into the bathroom to straighten his tie.
Draven was just stepping out of the shower. He eyed Cam up and down. “Nice,” he said, voice dark and smoky. “If you make it back tonight, I’d enjoy peeling that suit off of you.”
Heat pooled low in Cam’s belly as he imagined it. “You’re a bad influence,” he murmured. “I’m tempted to make getting back here a priority.”
“You won’t,” Draven said. It didn’t sound like a complaint, but rather a simple statement of fact.
“No,” Cam agreed, running a comb through his hair. “I won’t.”
* * *
Cam sensed his boss’s tension the moment he stepped off the elevator on the sixteenth floor of FedSec Aurora’s Central Command building. Neil felt like he was nearing the end of both his rope and his strength.
Pat was already waiting in the anteroom when Cam walked in. He looked tired, as if he’d worked far into the night, and Cam felt vaguely guilty about the three-day break he’d just enjoyed.
“At least one of us looks rested,” Pat observed. “This should be an interesting meeting.”
“Interesting isn’t the word I’d choose,” Cam said, helping himself to coffee. “Neil feels like a wreck.”
“Yeah. The ship docked at Aurora Station around midnight local time, and he and my father were both here for an early meeting with the Command Council. I don’t think either of them took the time to sleep.”
Cam had always hated Neil’s office. It used to belong to Drake Logan, and it was where the former director of psionic ops had delivered his reprimand after Cam had blown his last deep-cover assignment. Logan had shown no emotion as he’d told Cam that his career was over, and that the department would not condone his actions or support him. That he would face the Command Council alone.
He tucked the bitter memories away and focused on his boss, instead. Logan’s replacement was a lanky fellow in his late fifties, with a fringe of grey hair ringing a bald spot that seemed to get a bit larger every time Cam saw him. His navy blue suit was rumpled, and dark circles ringed his bloodshot eyes.
“Have you slept, Neil?” Cam asked.
“Not since… I’m not even sure when,” the director said with a grimace. “Must be getting on for thirty-six hours now, and I doubt I’ll see a bed until late tonight. I’m already triple-booked for most of the day.” Neil’s gaze shifted to Pat. “Have you talked to your father since he got in?”
“No.”
Cam sensed the flare of annoyance that accompanied Pat’s terse reply. Pat and his father hadn’t been on speaking terms since Pat had dropped out of college to join the psi hunters, and Pat resented the automatic assumption that since he was Avery’s son, he was privy to the senator’s thoughts.
Neil leaned back in his chair. “Most of what was discussed at the meeting this morning is classified. Officially, I’m only supposed to pass on the Command Council’s orders, so we’ll get that out of the way first.”
Cam exchanged a worried look with Pat, but neither of them spoke.
“Off-world operations in both of your organizations are hereby suspended,” Neil continued. “No surprise there, we anticipated that. How many people do you still have out in the field?”
“Seventeen agents, as of last night,” Pat said, glancing at Cam.
“Six teams — twelve people,” Cam said, thankful that he’d had the foresight to check his messages before he’d left the cabin.
“When do you think they’ll all be in?”
“Eight of my people are involved in long-term deep-cover ops with limited contact opportunities,” Pat said. “They may not even know they’ve been recalled for weeks yet.”
“Noted. What about your search-and-rescue teams, Cam?”
“The teams I had operating on Core Worlds are all safely home. Of the remaining six, three have confirmed they’ve received the message and are making their way back. I’m still waiting on the other three, but they were far enough off the beaten track that it’s still too early to expect a response.”
“Send me a list of everyone who’s still unaccounted for,” Neil said, “and include their last known locations.”
Cam and Pat both made notes on their slates. Neil waited until they were finished before continuing. “The Federation Senate wants more information before they consider making any policy changes regarding psions. I’ve been assigned to gather that information. Specifically, the Senate is studying the feasibility of implementing a registration and rating system for psions. To that end, they’d like a simple test that can be performed quickly and cheaply. Ratings on a scale of one to ten would be ideal.” He gave them a grim smile. “They’ve graciously offered us the choice of using an existing test or developing a new one.”
“What?” Cam couldn’t hide his dismay. “That’s not… I don’t even know how we’d come up with a rating system. Every psion is unique. It’s not something you can just slap a number on.”
“Not a number that means anything, anyway,” Pat muttered.
“And even if we managed to come up with some way to do it,” Cam said, “it’d be totally subjective. Each psion doing the testing would have to develop their own scale, and those scales wouldn’t be in any kind of agreement.”
“I did my best to make that clear to the Senate,” Neil said, “but unfortunately, we’re dealing with people who are almost entirely ignorant of what psions are capable of. Most of the senators were under the impression that every psion is a mind-reader, and can pluck whatever they like right out of a person’s head without even trying. I did what I could to educate them, but time was short, and fears run deep, especially with all the negative media coverage we’ve been getting. I’m not sure how much I swayed them. Senator Cottrell helped me prepare the presentation.” He gave Pat a speculative look. “For not being a psion, he’s remarkably well-informed.”
“Not by me,” Pat said with a scowl.
Neil ignored the venom in Pat’s voice and added, “Well, he’s your contact in the Federation Senate, so you’re going to be working closely with him for the foreseeable future. I’ve also been ordered to produce a list of all the psions working for both of your organizations, and their current places of residence. That includes students, Cam.”
A tight knot settled in Cam’s gut and started burning. “What, exactly, are they planning to do with that information?”
“I don’t know,” Neil said, “but I intend to ask before we hand it over. I’ll be accompanying Avery back to Earth when the Senate reconvenes in two months.”
“Internment camps.” Pat glanced at Cam.
“Yeah,” Cam said. “That was my first thought, too.”
“And mine.” Neil gave them both a bleak look. “Wait until you hear the rest. It was also suggested that we round up any other psions we know of who might be living off-world.”
“Suggested?” Cam asked. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It’s not an order yet, but it could be soon.” Neil rubbed his face with his hands. “I can’t decide if that’s for our protection or because the Senate would like to gather us all together in one place.”
Pat shook his head, but remained silent.
“Since all of your investigations are currently suspended,” Neil continued, “I’ll take over debriefing your teams as they straggle in. That leaves you two free to stay at the Institute campus and work with Senator Cottrell.”
“Great,” Pat muttered under his breath.
“Pat, you’ll need to work with the senator for the next few days. Cam’s going to be busy with his own project.”
“What project is that?” Cam asked.
“The Senate sent a Federation investigator back with us. He’s meeting with the Command Council at the moment, and he’ll be arriving at the Institute later today. His orders are to gather information for a report on th
e Institute and its operations. Avery’s staff will escort him to the campus after the meeting. He’ll be with you for a week. Cam, you’ll need to open your files to him and be available to answer any questions.”
The knot in Cam’s belly tightened. “What kind of questions?”
“He’s looking for an overview of the Institute in general: what your people do, how they do it, that sort of thing. I suspect there’s more to it than that, but that’s as much as he told me.”
Pat shot Cam a worried look. “Is that all for now?”
“It better be,” Neil said around a yawn. “I’m about to pass out. Coffee’s not even putting a dent in it. I’ll be in touch. I’ll want to meet with you both at the Institute campus in the next few days to discuss what kind of information we need to throw together. Cam, talk to the investigator about that as soon as you can. He might need more than just what the Senate asked me for.”
Outside Neil’s office, Pat said, “I don’t like how this is looking.”
“Makes two of us.” Cam kept his voice low. “Hence keeping my options open.”
Pat’s eyes widened. “Cam, you can’t—”
Cam silenced him with a glance toward the surveillance camera mounted above the door.
* * *
With a feeling of satisfaction, Miko released the last wave of bots into the Federation’s data-net. This final batch would hide itself within the data packets destined for the Colonial Alliance, and from there, the bots would work their way through the fragmented nets of the Alliance.
Even though Rafe claimed to have been born in a slave complex, there would be biometric data somewhere. If Rafe ever did set foot in Alliance territory again, Miko wanted to be certain the new profile he’d created would protect Rafe there, too.
A mythe-shadow almost as familiar as his own flared brightly nearby, riveting Miko’s attention with its intriguing colors and textures.
Tarrin.
Miko pulled his awareness out of the net and let his own mythe-shadow unfurl, bright tendrils drifting toward his lover.
Tarrin, Nick, and Vaya had arrived at the apartment the four of them shared late last night. Miko had already been asleep, but he’d woken when Tarrin had lifted him from his nest of blankets in the corner and carried him to bed. Tarrin had been too tired to do more than settle Miko in bed and crawl in beside him, but their mythe-shadows had mingled in greeting. Wrapped in Tarrin’s arms and his mythe-shadow, Miko slept better in those few remaining hours of the night than he had since Tarrin had gone.
Knowing how tired Tarrin was, Miko had left him sleeping the sleep of the exhausted without even waking him for a good-morning kiss.
When Tarrin walked into his office, Miko practically threw himself into his arms.
“I missed you, too. Far more than I thought I would.” Tarrin held him tightly for a few moments before releasing him and stepping back, amethyst eyes searching his face. “What’s bothering you? I was too tired to make sense of it last night, but I found you curled up in the corner. You only do that when you’re upset.”
Tarrin frowned, and Miko sensed him testing the currents. “Feel who?”
“Your double? The one Nick told us about?”
Tarrin studied the face on the screen with narrowed eyes. “What is he doing here?”
Without a word, Tarrin reached for him and drew him close again. Tarrin knew more about Miko’s past than anyone, had walked through the pain-filled corridors of Miko’s memories with him. Miko was well aware that Tarrin sensed his turmoil, both the pain Rafe’s mythe-shadow caused him and the guilt he felt about not being able to return Rafe’s feelings. Part of him wanted to draw Rafe closer, but a bigger part needed to push him away. Neither path would bring him peace, and he had no idea how to resolve the conflict.
“You’ve had a difficult time of it while I’ve been away,” Tarrin said softly. “I wish I’d been here for you. There was little enough for me to do on Earth. I won’t be confirmed as Aion’s senator for another few months, so I was only allowed into the sessions that were open to the public. Avery and Neil kept me informed, and Neil and I advised Avery between meetings as best we could, but aside from that, I spent most of the time shut up in our hotel suite with Nick and Vaya, giving Vaya a crash course on Federation politics.”
Miko hugged him hard, taking as much comfort from the strong arms enfolding him as from the beloved mythe-shadow brushing against his own.
A knock on the door had Miko drawing back and sweeping his awareness out into the hallway beyond his office.
Miko unlocked the door, and Cameron gave them a grim smile as he entered. “Welcome back, Tarrin. How was your trip?”
“Difficult,” Tarrin said. “And worrying. After listening to Avery and Director Iverson’s reports about what was discussed in the meetings that were not public, I have grave concerns about the direction in which things seem to be heading.”
“As do I,” Cameron said with a sharp nod. “I met with Iverson this morning and I’m still trying to process it all.”
“It’s a lot to take in,” Tarrin said. “On the way home, Vaya, Avery, and I discussed the possibility of Aion terminating its protectorate status and sheltering psions. If the Federation Senate decides to restrict the rights of psions, Aion won’t fare well as a member world. At least a third of the Ajhani could be classified as psions under the Federation’s definition of the term. Vaya and I thought we might be able to convince Aion’s Council of Chiefs to grant sanctuary to any psions wishing to escape the Federation.”
Miko sensed both surprise and relief rippling through Cameron’s mythe-shadow. “I hope it won’t come to that,” Cameron said. “But if it does, it would be good to know we would be welcome somewhere.”
“I can make no promises now,” Tarrin said. “And I cannot speak for the Council of Chiefs. But when the clans meet in Akajhan, Vaya and I will be there.”
“Thank you,” Cameron said. “The more options we explore, the better. What about this investigator? Iverson said he came back with you.”
“He did,” Tarrin said with a nod. “His name’s Jake something. Simon? Silverman? Avery will know.”
“What were your impressions of him?”
“He seemed friendly enough, though none of us saw much of him. He spent most of the journey in his cabin. The Senate did not give him much time to prepare, and he had a lot of background reading to do. Has he arrived yet?”
“No, he’s meeting with the Command Council now,” Cameron said. “I was told to expect him later today. Avery’s staff will be escorting him.”
“If you need someone to give him a tour, I could do that. Since I’ve already met him.”
“Good idea. Let Avery know you’ll meet him. When he arrives, bring him up to my office first. I want to talk to him before I cut him loose. He’s not a psion, is he?”
“No, he’s not,” Tarrin said. “That was the first thing Avery asked
me, too.”
“Good.” The colors of relief flared through Cameron’s mythe-shadow. “That will make things easier.”
“My thoughts, exactly,” Tarrin said.
Cameron turned to Miko. “Miko, can I have a quick, private word with you?”
“I’ll meet you in the dining room, Miko,” Tarrin said, moving toward the door. “Unless you need more time, Cam?”
Cameron grimaced. “I don’t have more time. Five minutes, tops, and he’s all yours.” Cameron waited until Tarrin was gone to pull a sonic disruptor from his pocket.
Miko raised an eyebrow. “You won’t be needing that,” he said through the voice synth. “There’s no surveillance in here.”
“Sorry. Habit.” Cameron slipped the device back into his pocket. “I’ve been ordered to give this investigator access to anyone he wants to see. That includes you, if anyone slips and says anything.”
“I know.”
“I’ve also been told to hand over data on every psion who’s come through the Institute.” His mythe-shadow flared with both fear and anxiety as he said it.
“The data is hidden,” Miko said, wishing there was some way he could convey his certainty to Cameron.
“I don’t want it hidden,” Cameron said in a low voice. “I want it gone. Wiped. Every trace.”
Miko hesitated for a moment, then said slowly, “You can’t wipe it. Someone will notice. I can pull the real data off the net entirely and replace it with something close, but useless.”
Cameron gave him a long, hard look. “You’re certain you can do that? Without anyone noticing?”
“Yes.” They stared at each other for a long moment, and Miko saw the colors of indecision and conflict rippling through Cameron’s mythe-shadow. “There’s a lot of damning information about me in there, too,” he reminded Cameron. “I’d better be certain. If FedSec or the Senate find out what I’ve been doing here — what I can do — I could be mind-wiped. Or put in a lab someplace so they can take me apart.”
“I would never let that happen.”
