Psion Omega (Psion series Book 5)

by Jacob Gowans

  Liar. His newfound lisp threatened to drive her mad.

  “Certainly no need to fly down to visit unless you missed me that badly.”

  “Prepare for my arrival,” the Queen said.

  “I’m always prepared.”

  The building was quiet when she entered, certainly no Thirteens were in the building other than Diego. She recalled there had been none the last time she visited, too. Diego had said they were on an assignment.

  Something’s not right.

  The Queen was on edge as she took the stairs up to Diego’s lair. The door to the third level was unlocked, but the Queen entered ready to blast should Diego try to ambush her. Instead she found him in his chair typing furiously at his keyboard. One of the screens displayed lines of code, which Diego’s one eye was fixed on.

  “Always a pleasure to see you, Queen. Please make yourself at home. There’s coffee in the kitchen if it suits you.” His eye stayed trained on the screen.

  “What is this? What are you working on?”

  “Rewriting some code,” he said very matter-of-factly, the lisp still present. His fingers raced over the keyboard like a demon had possessed him.

  “The fox gave you this assignment?”

  Diego paused before answering. “No. He asks me to keep the Hive up to date. Should I start asking his permission to relieve myself, too?”

  The Queen walked around the room to where she’d planted the box. Diego’s eye followed her reflection in the screen. She faced his direction while her hand secretly searched under the console until she found the device exactly where she’d placed it … but the hair was gone, the one she had trapped between the console and the box to inform her if the box was moved.

  He found it. Now he is lying, lying, lying.

  She took a step toward him. His eye flickered to her reflection, then back to his codes. Her attention shifted toward his work. The Queen had enough experience with writing and editing computer code that she understood the gist of what Diego was doing. She caught bits and scraps, and started piecing it all together.

  He’s deleting activity. What activity?

  The Queen’s eyes raced over the screen. He made a file transfer, a large one. Suddenly that bit of activity was gone.

  “STOP!” She reached for his chair and yanked hard on it, but Diego stood and let it slide out from underneath him while he continued to type. The Queen blasted him with two powerful hand blasts. Diego’s head smashed through the screen. Then she grabbed him by the legs and yanked him out. His face bled from multiple lacerations, but he grinned at her as though he’d won a gold medal.

  “You’re too late.” He jammed a button and several more lines of code disappeared. Then he spat his own blood in her face.

  The Queen struck him across the cheek. “What.” She smacked him again. “Did.” She hit him twice more. “You. Do?”

  “Keep swinging, Queenie,” he sputtered.

  Enraged, the Queen picked Diego up and threw him into his screens. His precious screens that he’d always loved to watch for hours and hours, day and night. Diego hit the floor with a crunching thump that told the Queen some of the screen’s glass had embedded itself into him. The sensation of needles deeply piercing her own skin shocked her, but she ignored it and rolled Diego over with her foot so that he faced her. The bleeding was much worse now.

  “Queen …” he whispered. “It was him. Not me. It was him.” Then he clamped shut and squirmed on the linoleum. “Stop it!”

  The Queen kicked him with savage force, feeling his ribs bend and snap beneath the toe of her boot. Her own ribs ached when she drew her next breath. Then she knelt next to his head and put a knife up to the canal of Diego’s ear. “Tell me everything I need to know or every centimeter of this blade will worm its way through your brains.”

  “Trapper,” Diego hissed. “He’s here.”

  “Who?” the Queen asked, standing up as fast as a bullet, knife at the ready. “Where?”

  “He’s in me. The fox knows what I’m talking about. He knows Trapper. Sammy and the girl—they were here … asking questions. He told them things.”

  “WHAT?” she screamed. “How long ago?”

  “Fff—” Diego’s teeth bit down on his lower lip until it left oozing bite marks. “He—trrrr … NOTHING! Go to hell!”

  The Queen was back on her knees next to him, knife still in hand. The steady amount of pressure of knife-on-ear helped Diego get better control over himself. He groaned loudly with pain as his ear drum burst. “He told them about the ext—gurrrk.” Choking noises erupted from Diego’s throat followed by gagging sounds.

  “The extraction site?” the Queen asked.

  Diego nodded.

  “Is that all?”

  There was a pause before Diego nodded again. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. My death was already planned. I had a purpose. The fox … will be … disappointed.” Disgusted at the filthy weakling lying before her, the Queen jammed the rest of the knife home and ended his pathetic life. Diego twitched like he was having a minor seizure before a single word escaped his lips in a faint moan.

  “Emerald … ” And he died.

  The Queen stared at him for a long time. Her eyes watered, not from guilt or sadness, but from the sudden sharp, biting pain in her own ear, pulsing and radiating like the ticking of a clock. What is this? The pains were happening more frequently and more acutely. So she forced herself to look at Diego as he bled out.

  When the pain finally passed, she removed her knife from his head, wiped it on his shirt, and left him on the floor.

  * * * * *

  Friday, April 25, 2053

  Priyanka was right about not getting caught. The cyber investigation task force lasted a week and found no evidence that she had doctored or posted the photos of Katie. Still, the pictures were all the school talked about. Katie tried to ignore it by focusing on her schoolwork, but too many things reminded her of the incident. When she used the toilet in the girls’ restroom, she discovered graffiti about her, the mildest of which said that she had her own strain of Chlamydia or that she had memorized the Kama Sutra. Her best friend Courtney demanded that the principal have the graffiti removed immediately, but it took three days for the janitors to get around to it.

  Almost a month after the incident, it was time for the second round of voting for Prom Court, where eighteen candidates were whittled down to eight. Katie finished in eighth place while Priyanka finished in first. Only six weeks remained before the final vote. Every time Katie saw Priyanka’s smug little smile she wanted to smack it until Pri’s nose broke. She imagined herself doing it so many times, it seemed to be all she dreamed about. That and the cave …

  Every night she dreamed the same thing. Touching the shadow version of herself, the knife appearing in her hand, and the choice. The house or the cave? She had gone to the brightly lit house, looked through its windows, watched the activity inside for hours. The scene never changed: inside the home her mother and father waited for Katie to come for dinner. A large ham sat on the table, still needing to be carved. The table sat six, but only two chairs were occupied. Katie’s dad would get up to look for a knife to slice the ham, but never found it. Her mother called for Katie, her voice growing more urgent each time. The scene was a loop that replayed over and over.

  The house did not interest her and the cave terrified her. Just standing at its mouth she could sense its unfathomable depth and vastness. The smell from within was not good, but not foul either; something heavy and thick, foreign and familiar all at once. Katie could not place the scent—not without entering the cave. She’d spent several nights staring into its mouth, her feet right at the edge of the darkness, and she listened, smelled, tried to peer into the black yet discerned nothing.

  Days after the vote, Katie’s gym class was forced to run a 5K in the pouring rain. Fortunately, Katie had Courtney, Vivian, and Rachel to keep her company as they jogged around with sopping clothes stuck to their bodies and drippin
g hair plastered to their pale, clammy faces.

  “I don’t know why I spend an hour doing my makeup in the mornings,” Courtney groaned as she glared at their teacher. “And look at her watching us from under her umbrella. She’s probably laughing at us.”

  “Isn’t this like illegal or something?” Vivian responded.

  Katie was one of the fastest girls in her class, though she hadn’t run track this year in order to focus on her studies and avoid shin splints. Through a megaphone, the instructor yelled at them to pick up the pace. Some of the students, Priyanka included, responded by slowing down even more just to spite the teacher. As Katie and her friends gradually caught up to Priyanka and her posse, Katie’s eyes bored holes into Priyanka’s backside. She wanted to slam Priyanka’s head into the pavement until it cracked open like an egg.

  Katie stayed on the inside lanes. The outside lanes had hurdles scattered throughout. As Katie and her crew passed Priyanka, Katie gave Priyanka a nudge, pushing her into the hurdles. Priyanka’s arm caught on it, and she tripped, landing on the track as the hurdle crashed down on her. Courtney and Vivian snickered as Priyanka growled in frustration behind them.

  Not wanting to look guilty, they didn’t even look over their shoulders until the sound of shoes slapping onto the wet track caught up to them.

  “Think you’re all that, Porn Queen?” Priyanka shrieked. “I’m going to—”

  Katie grabbed Priyanka and drove her into the soggy grass. When they hit the turf of the football field they slid two meters, tearing up the turf and covering themselves in mud. The instructor was on the far end of the field and didn’t notice the ruckus. Katie took advantage of this, jamming her elbow into Priyanka’s gut, then rotating her shoulder to bring that same elbow into Pri’s chin. However, it didn’t matter, Priyanka had no fight in her. After the blow to her stomach, she tried to curl into a ball, but Katie was all over her. A voice in Katie’s head told her, Hit harder! Harder! HARDER! She obeyed, raining fists and elbows until the instructor pulled her off.

  The gym instructor hauled both girls into the principal’s office, caked in mud and grass. Mrs. Simpson, the principal, was in a meeting with another student, but glanced several times out her window with increasingly disapproving expressions. Priyanka wrapped her arms around her stomach, sobbing and shivering, but Katie felt a strange warmth and sense of satisfaction.

  And she knew that tonight would be the night she dared to enter the cave.

  10. Promises

  Sunday, July 13, 2087

  “OUR FOCUS HAS to be on infiltrating Mexico City,” Commander Byron argued to the leadership committee after hearing other points of view. Sammy sat next to him, listening half-heartedly. He was still tired from a late Saturday night spent playing blastketball and making out with Jeffie. His lips were still sore and raw in a pleasant sort of way that made him grin whenever he thought about it. “What is the point in planning anything with the kill code unless we have the biggest piece of the puzzle already in our possession?”

  “I agree,” Anna said. “Let’s put all our attention on getting a Dark agent out of the Extraction facility and then worry about the rest.”

  “What can you tell us about the Extraction/Implantation site, Dr. N—Khani?” Lara asked, always reluctant to call on Khani.

  All eyes turned to the Tensai whose chest puffed out each time she spoke.

  “Sammy’s contact at the Hive,” Khani began, “has given us all the information we need to access the site under the disguise as an inspection team. The fox uses a quality control firm owned by N Corp through subsidiary companies to ensure secrecy regarding the nature of the facility. Using the protocol on the data cube, we should be able arrange an appointment without alerting anyone in the fox’s hierarchy.”

  “We need to assemble a team of Psions,” Sammy said. “People who can pass as inspectors.”

  “What are the profiles of people used in previous inspections?” Lara asked Khani.

  Khani tapped her glasses on her lip while her other hand danced on her tablet. “Psychologists mostly, but a few experts from other fields like mathematics and physical penetration test teams.”

  “So we need Psions who look old enough to pass as a part of this team?” the commander asked. “How many exactly?”

  “Five is the standard inspection team size,” Khani answered.

  “Count me in,” Anna said.

  “You and I are the only truly older looking Psions,” Commander Byron said. “No offense, Anna.”

  “None taken. Surviving to being thirty-three is a badge of honor.” She gave Sammy a rogue wink.

  “Who are the oldest Psions available?” Lorenzo asked.

  “More important to me,” Commander Byron said, “is who are the most qualified that we can make look old enough. Samuel, certainly, should go.”

  “He’s the most wanted man in the CAG,” Thomas said. “His face is all over the news.”

  “That picture looks nothing like me,” Sammy countered. “My hair is longer, I’ve been growing out my facial hair. Throw a pair of square glasses on me, and no one will connect the dots.”

  “I agree,” Anna stated. “Sammy needs to be on the mission.” She looked at Sammy, put a fist to her chest, and bumped her sternum.

  Sammy grinned. “I propose a team consisting of myself, the commander, Anna, Al, and Kawai Nujola.”

  Al stirred at the mention of his name, his eyes puffy as ever. Sammy guessed his friend had gained ten or fifteen kilos in the last three months, most of it in his face and gut. “I’m in.”

  “I oppose that team,” Commander Byron stated in a firm, cold voice. “Li Cheng Zheng should be taken instead of Al.”

  Al gazed at his dad, then barked out a laugh. “I’m far more qualified for the mission than Li. I’m going.”

  The atmosphere in the room changed very quickly to one of tense silence. Three days ago, the commander had kicked his son out of a subcommittee meeting for being hung-over. Everyone waited to see what he would say now.

  “Albert, you are not fit to go on any mission. You do not take care of yourself. How can you be expected to take care of your teammates?”

  “I—” Al sputtered. “You don’t have a clue—”

  “And while Albert is the topic at hand,” Byron stated to the committee, “I motion that he be removed from the leadership committee and any further missions until he gets himself sober and demonstrates some manner of self-control.”

  “Give me a break, Dad,” Al argued. “You can’t impose your morals on me. I’m more than qualified for this mission and the committee.”

  “I made a motion,” Byron said to the rest of the room. “Does anyone wish to second it?”

  At first no one did. Then Anna raised her hand. Al stared at her as though she’d shot him. Lara and Thomas exchanged a dark look, and Lara presented the motion to the floor with a sigh. “All those in favor of imposing this restriction on Al …”

  One by one, hands went up, even Thomas’s. Sammy did not raise his hand, nor did Lara, but still the restriction passed by a two to one margin. Pale, tight-lipped and breathing heavily, Al stood. His hands shook and he seemed determined not to look at Commander Byron.

  “This is a mistake,” Al announced. “There’s no one more qualified or able. So if you idiots want to send our people into a dangerous situation without the best soldiers at your disposal, then the results are on your hands not mine.”

  Byron reached to put his hand on Al’s.

  “Don’t touch me!” Al shouted, jerking his hand away.

  The commander stood as well to help his son, but Al took a swing at his dad with a balled fist. Commander Byron jerked his head back and shoved his son face-first into the table. Al knocked his head into the wood and fell to the floor, nose and lip trickling blood. When Al reached his feet again, he looked worse than ever.

  “Clean yourself up, son,” he said quietly. “You are not yourself.”

  “I am—just—” Al’s ey
es roamed the room, and he seemed to finally realize how he looked in the eyes of the committee. Without another word, he left. Once he was gone, the committee put the five names to a vote. It passed unanimously. Immediately after, the commander excused himself, his face red but frozen in stone.

  Sammy did not get home until after 2100, but the smell of booze was so strong in the house that it almost made him gag. Al was slumped over on the couch, his head resting on one propped up hand while his other hand spun an old pistol on top of the coffee table. He did not look up when Sammy entered the room.

  Sammy’s eyes trained on the gun. For a moment, he considered running for the commander, but somehow he knew that would make things worse. Trying to keep his voice as calm as possible, Sammy said, “Hey Al. You doing okay?”

  Al didn’t move except to spin the gun again. “You are my best friend, Sam.” His slurring was particularly bad tonight. Then his shoulders gave a jerk. “Ha! I called you Sam. I bet I’m the first person to ever call you Sam. Aren’t I, Sam?”

  One of his teachers in Johannesburg had insisted that Sammy was a girl’s name, so he’d called him Sam, and it rankled Sammy every time. “Yep, you’re the first.”

  Al sniggered as Sammy sat down. “I’m tired. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “What’s the gun for?”

  Al glanced at Sammy as if to say, “You know what it’s for,” but he didn’t say a word.

  “You mind if I take it?” Sammy asked. He waited for Al to answer, and when he didn’t, Sammy reached for it.

  Al tightened his grip. “I just … think … maybe I’ve messed things up. Maybe it’s my fault.” His shoulders jerked again with another mirthless laugh. “And that’s kind of funny, right? Because I’ve been telling Marie that it’s her fault. I mean … all she did was get pregnant, right? All she did was give me a beautiful girl.”