Prisoner of the Mind (Project Archon Book 1)

by Kal Spriggs

  “So, Cezero looks clean then?” Shaden asked.

  His mother scowled, “His mercenary bodyguards do, anyway. Apparently there have been some ugly rumors about a few loners, psychics not tied in to the network or just those who preferred to keep contact to a minimum. Someone’s ratted most of the local loners out to ESPSec in the past few months. Also ESPSec has intercepted a couple of refugee shipments and both those shipments had several psychics onboard who disappeared into the internment camps.”

  Shaden nodded slowly, “Is that enough proof?”

  “Combined with what you pulled out that girl’s mind, it’s enough for suspicion anyway. Someone’s got to get in there and find out the truth. If his muscle is doing it on their own, that’s bad enough. If Cezero is behind it, then someone has to stop him.”

  “And I need information from him if he’s involved.” Shaden shrugged, “So, where do I go?”

  His mother shook her head, “Not so fast. First, you need to recuperate from yesterday.” She held up a hand to forestall his reply, “Trust me, you feel fine now, but your reserves are dangerously low. You need food, rest, and more food.”

  Shaden gave her a nod of assent. He felt eager to go, but he knew he wasn’t anywhere near recuperated. His ribs, in particular, weren’t healed. Shaden didn’t feel prepared either. He didn’t know his own limits, he didn’t even know his own capabilities.

  “Second, you need some training.” She took the lid off the stew pot and stirred it with a wooden spoon. “I can train you with telepathy, but that’s the limit of my abilities. Whatever they did to you… your abilities include such variety that I don’t even know where to start. Just looking in at your mind is like seeing a box full of ferrets on crack. I’m not really sure what’s going to come out of you or where it’s going, or what will happen next.”

  “We don’t have much time…” Shaden began.

  “We have a few days. Long enough for you to get some of your abilities under control, and long enough for one or two of my friends to at least give you some pointers. For that matter, to heal yourself. You look like a pulped tomato.”

  Shaden snorted at that, but while he wouldn’t mind some training, he didn’t know how much time he had. He could hear his heart, like a clock ticking away the seconds. Did he have the time to spend? Could he afford not to get his abilities under better control? He nodded grudgingly. He wanted to learn what Halving did to him, but he needed to develop a far greater level of control if he wanted to invade Halving’s facility.

  “Okay, then. Stir this a bit and I’m going to talk to some people,” His mother passed him the spoon and moved to the door.

  Shaden looked down stew, he wrinkled his nose a bit as a mushy carrot stuck to the spoon. He wondered if he could ask her to pick up a pizza while she was out.

  ***

  Chapter 14

  Amalgamated Worlds restricts movement as another method of control. The cities are prisons in all but name. Yet for those desperate to flee Earth, the cities are the best places to hide and arrange transport with smugglers who’ll take you anywhere you want to go… for the right price. Smuggling ships can land anywhere and the networks of human trafficking are spread through the cities more effectively than any modern mass transit.

  --Memoirs of Shaden Mira

  The oddest part about working for the Bureau of ESP Security is how other psychics view me as a traitor. I find it more than a little amusing, in actuality. They view themselves as a persecuted subset of society, a “brotherhood” or something like that, as if they’re the early Christians being put into coliseums to be eaten by lions. Just as with such superstitious cults, their notions of unity are laughable. Any of them will betray the others if offered immunity to ESPSec’s enforcers and perhaps some small reward. I find it most effective to operate through such intermediaries. After all, a document of immunity from ESPSec is only good so long as the psychic in question remains valuable to them…

  --Dr. Jonathan Halving, Project Archon Notes

  The crisp air burned in Shaden’s lungs and brought tears to his eyes as he and a dozen others stepped out of the back of a van and into an open yard.

  His gaze flitted over the scowling faces of the guards even as his mind went through the simple mantra his mother had taught him. They’d practiced it together a dozen times over the past couple days. It still stunned him how easily a psychic could become ‘invisible.’ To an extent anyway, he thought to himself.

  The guards of the refugee group didn’t so much not see him as they ignored the fact they had. Moreover, as they counted heads, they “saw” twenty, but they only remembered seeing nineteen. Effectively, the people around him saw him, reacted to his movements, could speak to him, and totally forget his presence.

  It had limits, but so long as there was a crowd, lots of moving people, and the guards remained busy, it was easy enough for Shaden to manage. He stepped right through their perimeter and out of sight around a low wall.

  Ok, easy part’s over, now it gets difficult. Shaden looked around the grounds of Cezero’s private little fortress and grimaced. According to local history, the place had once been a college campus, perched under the north end of the Throggs Neck Bridge. After the nationalization of all colleges decades back and the subsequent centralization and consolidation, the small campus first went to private hands and then became abandoned.

  Cezero might have legally purchased the grounds, bribed a corrupt member of the local authorities for the deed, or he might have squatted. In any case, it afforded him an easily defensible location with access to the Long Island Sound and all of the seagoing shipping that entered New York City.

  Shaden found the defenses easy enough to breach when he came in as one more head of “cargo” headed for a new life someplace else. Through Cezero and other such facilitators, much of the city’s populace had begun to slip away from what had once been the center of immigration on Earth. He had learned far more about the system in his past few days spent in his mother’s apartment, much of it a direct conflict of his shining vision of Amalgamated Worlds. It shamed him, in many ways, how much he wanted to reject what he learned.

  It said volumes about the ruling government of Amalgamated Worlds that its people paid extortionate amounts of money to slip out of their policed zones. The smugglers who got them out of the city made a bundle. The refugees either went to less controlled areas on Earth or to secret rendezvous with space-going smugglers well out at sea, or to one of the handful of ‘open’ spaceports run by Colonials who always needed more hands for work.

  Slowly but surely the population of Earth declined.

  Shaden ceased his mental efforts and reached out with his mind. He knew his touch remained far from subtle, but he tried to be as “quiet” as he could. His mother couldn’t match his ability to sense objects at a distance, or to feel the world around him as he did, but she’d taught him some useful techniques to minimize his own mental volume. He hoped it would keep him hidden long enough to slip through the second ring of defenses. But he didn’t know the location or skill of the psychic guardians of the place. And the sooner he alerted them, the sooner things would go to hell.

  The processing area lay separated from the rest of the buildings by a wide strip of lawn. Shaden moved to the sidewalk running between the two areas and started towards the cluster of older buildings perched almost underneath the bridge.

  Two of Cezero’s gang members passed him, headed for the refugee area. Neither of them gave him a second glance. Dressed in the black trench coat and bundled up against the cold, Shaden looked no different from any of Cezero’s people.

  Another pair of gang members squatted around a burning barrel to warm themselves. Shaden didn’t know if it was a checkpoint or if the two just sought a somewhat sheltered place to warm themselves. The two didn’t look particularly alert, but the two archaic AK-47’s they carried would be deadly enough if they used them.

  Shaden slowed his steps as he drew near. He felt the i
tching temptation to reach out to their minds. He doubted he could finesse them enough to get past. He scowled as he remembered what he’d done to the girl and boy who’d sought to bring him here. Shaden didn’t trust his self-control enough to directly tamper with anyone’s mind. Instead he just nodded at the nearest one, “One of the refugees looked like that guy Cezero said to be on the lookout for and they sent me up here to see what Cezero wanted us to do with him.”

  The nearer one shrugged, “How should I know? We’ve got a dozen of ‘em look like that description already trussed up.” He spat to the side, “You might as well tell Cezero.”

  “Primus around?” Shaden asked, as calmly as he could manage.

  “That psychic fuck? I dunno. Him and his freaks are probably in their own building, ain’t been no trouble yet to bring ‘em out. Cezero don’t like him poking around when he’s got visitors.” The two guards scowled, “Steer clear of them and don’t let them get wind of Cezeo’s business.”

  Shaden raised his hands, “Hey, I just didn’t want to run into any of them. Creep me out, you know.”

  The other man who hadn’t yet spoken nodded, “Yeah, I hear you. I figure it won’t be long now before we don’t need ‘em any more, though. And then…”

  Both the gang members giggled. Shaden felt suddenly nauseous. It looked like the main threat to Shaden had no clue that their employer not only worked with ESPSec, but planned to betray them when the opportunity arose.

  He wondered how a group of psychics could remain so ignorant.

  Tentatively he reached out with his mind. He recoiled from the feeling of cold emptiness he found in both the men’s minds. Someone had shielded their thoughts.

  Shaden felt a sudden temptation to push his way through their mental barriers, but he fought it off. That would draw the attention he didn’t want. He had to assume that Cezero or another psychic had formed that barrier over his cadre of guards. Shaden knew how to defend his own mind, but to guard others he felt must require a lot of attention. Clearly, either Cezero did it himself or another psychic helped to guard his secrets.

  “Well, stay warm,” Shaden said as he walked away.

  One of the two gangers called after him, “Tell Ray we still want our turn with the girl who couldn’t afford to pay. She still doesn’t look too bad and I hear she’s stopped crying.”

  Shaden gritted his teeth as he turned away. He fought the urge to ignite the air around both of them and make them very warm indeed.

  He walked past a pair of glass and steel buildings that had once been classrooms and a cafeteria. The latter had become some kind of nightclub. If the refugee status hadn’t worked, he would have sought entry through the club, though security had looked chancier with that route. The place required an invitation from Cezero or one of his goons.

  Shaden drew near the building Cezero had chosen as his own. The old, fortress-like building squatted on a slight rise. The cleared area around the house showed an eye for security and a half dozen more of Cezero’s gang guarded the perimeter.

  He noticed a driveway on the other side of the building, and a row of large black vehicles pulled up at the front. It looked like the visitors the other guards mentioned were official.

  As Shaden stepped into the cleared area his senses screamed out a warning and he dove to the side. He tucked his shoulder and rolled and saw a blurred form pass overhead. As Shaden came to his feet, he saw a baker’s dozen men and women rush forward to encircle him. The leader, the one whose attack he’d barely dodged, crouched only a dozen feet away. The young man had a long, lean, face with tawny eyes and hair gone prematurely grey. He spoke as the rest of his group moved in to tighten the trap.

  “Felt you coming, with your little trick earlier. Not very quiet are you?” Their leader gave Shaden a toothy grin.

  Shaden reached out with his senses. He felt the positions of the group that surrounded him. He could feel the edges of something that linked the group, not a mental link, but some kind of sense of presence.

  That link pulsed and a heartbeat later, a young woman behind him leapt forward to swing a sword at Shaden’s back.

  He rolled backwards and kicked upwards. He fought his impulse and barely pulled the kick so that instead of shattering her sternum and driving her ribs into her chest the blow knocked the wind from her lungs and left her gasping on the ground. Shaden felt their strange link pulse again. He felt two of the others dive forward at him as he rolled up to his feet.

  Shaden lashed out with his mind and both stumbled backwards. He managed to pull the blow at the last second. Again, it left them down on the ground, bruised and stunned, but not dead. Shaden didn’t trust himself to fight all-out against them, though, it felt as if his every instinct was to go for a killing blow. It is just what Halving’s people did to me, he told himself, I am not a killer.

  The others circled around him as Shaden’s head swiveled to follow the leader. Shaden’s brown eyes met the tawny eyes of the young man. “I’m not here to fight you,” Shaden said. Please don’t make me kill you.

  “You crept in all uninvited… which doesn’t say much about your motives,” Primus said. “And you headed towards Cezero. So either you’re an assassin sent by a gang or…” The band’s strange link pulsed again.

  Shaden felt three of them this time. They swept in from different sides, two swung high and one swept in for his legs. Shaden sucked some of the energy out of the air and felt frost crackle on his clothing as he shoved again.

  He barely had time to react though as he felt a countering blow of force deflect his efforts. Shaden managed to spin to the side and avoid two of his attackers even so, but the third kicked his legs out from under him. The link pulsed again as two other attackers leapt forward even as the other three came at him on the ground.

  Shaden shoved himself off the ground and soared over the heads of the group even as he sent an explosion of force outwards. The group’s link blazed as the whole group surged into motion.

  Shaden gave up any effort to pull his punches as he fought for his life. He lashed out with full force and sent the nearest attacker to fly backwards, then met a wall of force coming at him with one of his own. His own strength countered it and he saw one of the group stumble backwards as his efforts overwhelmed her.

  Shaden had no time to gloat on that victory as he dodged under a chain that came for his face and then rolled away from another sword strike. “I’m not here to fight you!” Shaden shouted again, then leapt backwards and gave himself a push of force to land ten meters back from the group. It wasn’t a steady landing and he winced as he landed hard and felt his knee pop a bit. It barely held his weight as he took a step backwards. I really don’t have time for this, he thought.

  The psychics immediately fanned out and their mental link pulsed. Shaden realized that they shared some kind of direction, a sort of pack mentality that allowed them to coordinate their actions. The moment of realization nearly cost him his head, for he hesitated a fraction of a second as their link pulsed again and they surged forward.

  “Dammit, I’m trying not to hurt you!” Shaden shouted, as he pulled more energy out of the air. He stepped into one man’s downward swing and caught his club even as he pushed out with his mind at the attackers to his sides. Shaden punched the man hard in the stomach and then planted his elbow at his temple. The attacker went down without a sound.

  Shaden grunted as a blow of psychokinetic force caught him. Shaden hurtled towards the glass face of the club behind him. Shaden pushed backwards with his mind and shattered the glass windows. He hurtled through, blowing shards of glass ahead of him and he heard screams and shouts of panic as the wave of glass slashed through the club. Shaden tucked his shoulder and tried to slow his fall with his mind, but he still hit hard enough that he bounced and rolled across the floor to slam hard into the back wall.

  The thumping beat of the club clashed with the screams of panicked onlookers as they fled. So much for a low profile, he thought.

 
Dozens of people were down, many with shards of glass sticking out of them, shouting in pain or clutching at wounds. Shaden’s stomach sank as he saw the wounds, saw a woman stumble away, hands clutched over a ruined face while a man next to her clutched at his throat and a six inch shard of glass buried in it.

  Shaden came to his feet uncertain what to do. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, he thought with horror. Yet around the screaming crowds he saw Primus’s people coming in, he could feel their link and sense their intent. They were coming to kill him.

  Shaden watched as the group fanned out and moved forward, driving through the crowd like wolves among sheep. Behind them he saw another group of people emerge from Cezero’s building.

  This had not gone at all to plan.

  ***

  Cyrus cocked his head and stared at the little weasel of a man across from him.

  “You call me down here to a meeting to check out a dozen men who look nothing like the one we want, and you want some kind of reward?” He made no effort to keep his anger in check. He glanced over at the ESPSec Captain seated next to him, “How valuable is he?”

  Captain Schultz shrugged, “Colonel Givens says he’s proven a somewhat useful informant. We’ve been disturbed by the fact that he’s sheltered some of the psychics in his organization from us.”

  “They’re loyal to me!” Cezero whined. “And I’ve been turning over every lone psychic who comes through. If I get too obvious, my people will turn on me for being a rat!”

  “Your security concerns are not mine,” Cyrus said, his voice cold. He felt suddenly sickened. He hated to deal with the vermin before him. He’d chosen his side only after his idealism had been shown a lie and it made him feel ill to see someone so driven by self-preservation that he turned on those who helped to protect him.