Recruits Series, Book 1

by Thomas Locke

  “We need to get started,” Sean finished. “We don’t have much time.”

  48

  The four of them plus Carver went back to the clinic. Thankfully, Sandrine was on duty and did not protest when Carver insisted they were temporarily taking over the space. The colonel then departed to fetch the Watchers. Sandrine moved back and leaned on one of the beds and played willing observer. Dillon paced, halting now and then to reach for Carey’s hand. Elenya gave it a few minutes, then took her impatience back to where she could pressure her father and the others to act. And now. Sean watched her depart, grateful that she was on his side.

  From time to time Sean stepped back into the station proper and looked over to the security headquarters, which grew increasingly crowded with people used to holding power. He watched the energy being spent on things that didn’t matter, and in the wrong place, and knew he had been right to insist. He’d just as soon send the whole pack of them off to the Cyrian equivalent of the North Pole. But he couldn’t. They would fight the battle. That was not his job.

  He was after something else entirely.

  Carver returned with the Watchers in tow. Elenya popped back a few seconds later. Sean asked Carver, “Any progress on shifting the power crew outside the station?”

  “First they want to hear from people inside their system that this is a real threat.” When Dillon huffed a humorless laugh, Carver added, “At least they have resisted bringing in Watcher teams of their own. And the Guards deployment is happening off planet. For now.”

  Sean accepted this because he had to. “I need you to do something else.”

  If Carver found anything odd about taking orders from his newest recruit, he hid it well. “Name it.”

  “Go ask Josef and Tirian to join us.”

  Dillon stared at him. “The professor I can understand. But Tirian? Really?”

  “He needs to be here,” Sean insisted.

  Dillon snorted. “What, you don’t think the day already has enough trouble?”

  “He’s under house arrest,” Carver pointed out.

  “Which is a perfect reason to leave him out,” Dillon said.

  Sean told his brother, “We were inches away from landing in the exact same place.”

  “What place is that?” Dillon shot back. “Perpetually angry? Nasty by nature?”

  Sean shook his head. “Broken.”

  Dillon’s features showed intense disapproval, but he bit down on any further protest.

  Sean turned to Carver and said, “We need them. But only if they agree to work under our orders.”

  “Under your command,” Elenya corrected.

  Carver offered his flash of approval or humor, or perhaps both. “Understood.”

  “Hurry,” Sean said, but he was already talking to empty air.

  The two Watchers Carver brought in were as unmatched a pair as Sean had ever met. Chenel was a solid brick, her voice deep and rough, the sound of a three-pack-a-day fanatic. She was probably young, probably tough, probably a lot of things. But one aspect was very definite indeed. Intelligence burned in her gaze, strong as wrath. By contrast, Baran was a tiny wisp and tended to cringe every time anyone looked his way. The woman was his friend, or so Sean assumed, because she stood where he could slip behind her whenever required. Sean liked them both on sight.

  He asked, “You were watching our home the night it got destroyed?”

  “We did our duty,” Chenel said. The woman was taut and shielded against the attack she assumed was incoming. Sean knew she spoke to all the unseen authorities stacked on the station’s other side. “We did it right.”

  “This isn’t about blame,” Sean said. “This is about getting ready for the invasion.”

  Dillon left the translating for Carey to Elenya and stepped up beside his brother. He pointed out beyond the clinic’s perimeter and said, “We’re here because they don’t trust us and they don’t especially like us. Which suits us just fine. We’re all about working outside the box.”

  “They’ve spent four thousand years cramming the whole transit thing in a tight little package,” Sean said. “It’s partly political, and it’s partly ego and partly necessity. Some worlds don’t like us. They send in bureaucrats who make sure to strip away every ounce of fun and adventure from the process. They’ve wrapped the whole thing in bureaucratic tape, and they call it safety measures.”

  “Or expediency,” Dillon said. “We get that one a lot in our world. It usually means the adults are getting ready to mess things up big-time.”

  Slowly, a half step at a time, the skinny guy emerged into the open. Chenel pointed to where Elenya stood beside Carey, translating softly. “Who are they?”

  “Allies and friends,” Sean replied. “Elenya’s father is over there leading the bureaucrats. Now, back to the night they blew up our home.”

  Chenel’s question lacked its earlier heat. “What is so important about that now?”

  “It’s what he does,” Dillon replied. “Sean takes bits and pieces from different puzzles and somehow makes the things all come together.”

  Elenya added, “Sean is an adept.”

  Baran’s voice was delicate, like he wanted to speak without actually disturbing the air. “Can I ask something first?”

  “Anything.”

  “Carver says you claimed to have done an external observation.”

  “If that means hunting beyond the physical body, it isn’t a claim. And it wasn’t me, it was my brother.”

  Dillon added, “Carver doubting it happened is a major reason why we’re here on our own.”

  “Their doubt and their insistence that we work inside their comfort zone is a major pain,” Sean agreed.

  Carver chose that moment to return, the two men in tow. “I heard that.”

  Sean gave a moment for the introductions. Josef’s presence was a relief, even if the giant did push too much air from the room. Tirian scowled at all in turn and said nothing. Sean didn’t care. So long as the former Examiner followed orders, he could stay as nasty as he liked.

  Sean turned back to the Watchers and took up where he had left off. “The night of the attack, I sensed something. Things felt wrong, like my bones were vibrating to a bad tune. Five minutes later, Dillon had this idea. He wanted me to hold his hand, strengthen his shield with mine, so he could go out. Walk around. Without feet. See what he could see.”

  The two Watchers exchanged a glance. “What did he find?”

  “Four Tirians, spaced around the compass. All four attacked. What I’m thinking is this. They wanted you to see that.”

  From behind him, Carver said, “There is debate whether the aliens even have a thought process.”

  “And that’s the problem,” Sean said. “If you’d stop worrying so much about keeping the lid on transit powers and started looking at what is possible, you might actually learn something.”

  Baran stepped a fraction farther out into his own space. Chenel actually smiled. Tight, but approving. Sean smiled in response and went on, “Maybe when the aliens take over a human, they are able to do more than just control and duplicate. I’m thinking absorb. They study us from the inside.”

  “Then they reshape their tactics according to what they discover,” Elenya said.

  Carver said, “Permission to ask one question. Why did they let the Examiner go?”

  Sean had been spending a lot of time on that one. “My guess is, they treated Tirian as a diversion from the beginning. He was sent back to be the guilty guy. Give the bureaucrats a reason to ignore the other evidence.”

  “Which you all did,” Dillon said. “Which you all wanted to do.”

  Chenel said, “To answer your question, we didn’t see anything before the blast.”

  “Why not?”

  “Watchers cannot be on constant patrol. We would burn out in a matter of days. What your brother sensed is our standard mode of operation. One anchors, the others patrol.”

  “Sniper-spotter,” Dillon said. />
  Sean waved that away. “Go on.”

  “We patrol, reach the limit, return, switch, go back.”

  That was what he was after. “The switch. How long does that take?”

  “Theoretically, no time at all. But as I said, there are limits.”

  He could feel it all coming together. Finally. “These limits. Tell me about them.”

  “You understand the standard time measurement, yes? We are out for two standard units, we return for ten.”

  “Ten minutes on, fifty off,” Elenya translated.

  Chenel added, “Halved by two Watchers sharing duty.”

  Sean nodded his understanding. “So there are five units every cycle when there is no Watcher watching.”

  “Of course, that is assuming we don’t eat or sleep. Which is why there are normally a minimum of six Watchers to a team,” Chenel said, burning Carver with her own ire.

  “The Counselor did not wish to give me any Watchers at all,” Carver pointed out. “I worked with what I had.”

  “Sure. You guys did great.” Dillon glared at Carver. “Thanks for nothing.”

  “Dillon.”

  “I’m just saying . . .” He huffed and went quiet.

  Sean said to the Watchers, “So you weren’t scoping when the attack happened.”

  “Baran went out just as your home was blasted. He saw that one.” Chenel indicated Tirian.

  “Because he was there,” Dillon said. “All four of him.”

  “Baran didn’t identify but one.”

  “Because they did not stay around and let you.” Sean felt light as air, his mind dancing through the crystal clarity of seeing the scene as a unified whole. “They are aware of your presence. They know when you are watching. Which is why they come here, to Cyrius. Because transiters aren’t welcome. And they’ve been checking on this place. Tight little Watcher forays all their own. Dillon’s caught their scent.”

  Carver said, “I don’t . . .”

  Sean wasn’t interested in getting the adults up to speed. There wasn’t time for that anymore. He said to Carver, “Go to the security office and bring back Tatyana and Anyon.”

  “I’ll go,” Elenya said.

  “No, let Carver. You and I need to talk.”

  When Carver left, Dillon asked, “So what do you have in mind?”

  “Ambush,” Sean replied.

  Dillon grinned his approval. “Cowboys and Indians. I love it.”

  Elenya asked, “What does this mean?”

  “Later,” Sean replied, reaching for her hand. “Come with me.”

  As he drew Elenya back into the rear office, Dillon called after them, “You want me to take these two out on a circuit?”

  “No, stay where you are.”

  “But—”

  “Dillon, stay.” Like he was talking to a stubborn dog.

  The instant Sean shut the door, Elenya flowed into his arms. “You are an excellent leader.”

  He wanted to show his fear. His uncertainty. All the things he had to hide down deep in front of the others. But there wasn’t time. The clock ticked as loud as his hammering heart. He kissed her, he breathed in her scent, then he released her and stepped back and said, “I need to tell you what I’m planning.”

  He led her over to a chair, moved his in close enough for their knees to touch, gripped both her hands with his. Trying to make a connection strong enough to let him communicate through osmosis. But he failed.

  A half-dozen words were enough to strip away every vestige of happiness. She stared at him in horror. “This is suicide. It is madness!”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You are willing to risk your life for this? You are willing to risk us?”

  Sean watched her leap up and readied himself for the same onslaught she had directed at her father. She stood over him, breathing hard, eyes filled with tears. But she remained silent. So he asked, “Will you let me explain why this has to happen?”

  Her nod was scarcely more than a shudder, just enough motion to dislodge a tear.

  “Everything you say is true. I know that. I’m not going to pretend. The risk is real. But you know this needs doing, because it’s the only reason you’re letting me talk at all.” He felt as though every word he spoke was another nail in his own coffin. But it had to be said. It had to be done.

  Elenya replied, “Someone else can do this.” The words were not loud, they were not angry. They were a musical moan. The Serenese chant was laced with the agony of a woman torn in two. “Someone better trained. Someone more experienced.”

  Sean did not reply.

  “I want to love you. I want to live with you. I want tomorrows with you.”

  Sean used both hands to wipe his own face. “If I don’t do this, I’ll suffer the guilt of turning away from what I know I’m supposed to do. I’ll carry that weight for the rest of my life. It would taint everything. Including us.”

  “You know this? How?”

  “The night the aliens attacked us, Dillon had this idea. He said it felt like it had come from outside himself. That’s exactly what happened to me with this.”

  “Describe that moment for me, Sean. When it came to you.”

  “I was leaving the prison. We were back down inside the transit room. And suddenly . . . it’s like I walked into a cloud. A hundred images, all whispering to me at once. It wasn’t just how I should do this thing. It was why.”

  “How did it feel?”

  There was a new tone to her voice. A sense of hearing far more than his words. Sean lifted his head and saw that along with the horror was something new in her gaze. He hoped against hope that it was truly a hint of acceptance. “Like a flood of concepts, each one carrying a unique force, almost like I could taste and smell the images as well as see them. They just arrived. Like the whole idea had been waiting for me.”

  She groped blindly for the chair and slumped down. Sighed. Wiped her face with both hands. “That is how the records were discovered.”

  “Wait, you mean . . .”

  “The story has become a part of my planet’s legend. How the first adept realized there was an invisible repository that she could access by taking the impossible step.”

  Sean leaned back in his chair. Took a breath he feared might not come. Knowing he was not going to face this alone was a pleasure beyond exquisite. “I need your help, Elenya.”

  Her voice was resigned now, soft with love and defeat. “And I will do what you say.”

  All he could think to say was, “Thank you.”

  She reached for both his hands. They sat like that for a time, linked by far more than flesh. Finally she said, “You have never asked about the planet where I first transited.”

  Her fingers were still damp, convicting him of the pain he’d caused this beautiful girl. Again. “You’re right.”

  “It is called Helene. I was seven years old. I thought I had gone to paradise. Two of the three suns were above the horizon, one rising, the other setting. I stood on a shore. The sea looked like a liquid jewel.” She wiped her face. “I have never told anyone about this before. Promise me we will go there together, Sean.”

  “As soon as this is done,” he vowed, hoping against hope that the day might indeed soon be theirs to claim.

  49

  When Sean and Elenya emerged, they found Carver in the front room with Tatyana and the Ambassador in tow. One look at his daughter’s tear-streaked face was enough to turn Anyon’s mood fouler still. But all he said was, “We need to know there is a logical, definable purpose behind your desire for us to weaken our position.”

  “We’re not weakening anything,” Dillon retorted. “We’re setting a trap.”

  Sean said, “We don’t know when the next attack will come. We don’t really know anything about them. Our knowledge has been restricted like everything else about the transit powers. The aliens are developing new tactics and we’ve remained stagnant. And unless we prepare for their new strategy, we risk losing another
world.”

  Elenya’s voice revealed her severely shaken state. “Father, he is correct. These are exceptional circumstances. And Sean is the man to work out our solution.”

  “You know this how?”

  “Because he is an adept. He had an idea come to him from beyond. He says that it was as if he walked through a cloud of an idea. Do you remember hearing those words before, Father?”

  The Ambassador was silent. Thoughtful. Intent. Behind him, Tatyana and Carver leaned closer, clearly drawn by Elenya’s unexpected words. Sean glanced around the room. Baran, Chenel, Sandrine, all of them captivated by what Elenya was saying. And apparently very surprised.

  Elenya went on, “They were part of my favorite stories while I was growing up. About the young woman who defied an entire planet and drew from nothing the records and the concepts that now shape our Assembly.”

  Anyon did not respond.

  “Sean is an adept. You need to accept this. He has been given what may be a method to protect us, not just now but in the future. We need to pay attention and do what he says.”

  Sean resisted the urge to tell Elenya that she had sort of twisted the truth. The idea that had come to him wasn’t so extensive, and wasn’t about halting this particular attack, and wasn’t . . . But he held his comments in check. Elenya was on a roll.

  Anyon glanced once at Sean, but not long, as though he was too captured by this transformation in his daughter to give much weight to anything else. He asked, “What comes next?”

  To her immense credit, Elenya replied, “That is for Sean to say.”

  Sean swallowed hard. What came next meant moving into the danger zone. “My brother needs to teach me how to hunt.”

  50

  How do you do it?” Sean asked. “How do you release yourself?”

  Dillon sat on the bed at the back of the clinic. He wrestled with the air before him, as he always did when he struggled to find the words. “I just . . . do it.”

  They could not bar the others from observing. But they could do their best to ignore their presence. Because they spoke English, Carver kept up a soft translation as Sean said, “Think back to the first hunt. Before it was natural. Take your time. No, don’t look at the others. Forget them. It’s just us now.” Sean used the voice he applied when talking Dillon down from one of his schoolyard rages. Steady and calm. Giving him the space to focus. “Talk through it. I know it doesn’t make sense. But we left logic behind a long time ago. Just relax and—”