Psion Omega (Psion series Book 5)

by Jacob Gowans

  Sammy sat down next to Al and put his arm over his shoulders. “I know how you feel, Al. I’m still you’re friend.”

  Al began to cry. He picked up the gun and dropped it in Sammy’s hands. Sammy used one hand to drop the magazine on the floor. Then he cleared the chamber and another round popped out. When it was done, he let out a deep breath.

  “That gun isn’t going to solve your problems,” Sammy said. “Just make everyone else’s worse. You take it a day at a time, and you’ll get through this.”

  Al put his head on Sammy’s shoulder and cried until he fell asleep. Sammy stretched him onto the couch and covered him with a blanket. Then he picked up the gun, the magazine, the bullet, and held them all in his hands for a long time. Was he really going to do it? Sammy hoped the answer was no, but wondered if he should tell someone. Byron? Marie? Thomas and Lara?

  What if it were me holding a gun to my head? What would I want?

  Sammy called Commander Byron. Five minutes later, the commander and Sammy carried Al, still deeply asleep, into Byron’s car. Sammy did not sleep well that night. And when he woke, he lay in a puddle of his own urine.

  The days passed so swiftly that Sammy hardly had time to wonder where they went. The mission date was set for the last Monday in July. Sammy spent most of his time visiting Brickert at the infirmary, preparing for the mission to Mexico City, and convincing Jeffie that she didn’t look old enough to go with the team. The only thing that finally appeased her was when he told her she could be the driver who took them from the hotel downtown to the mission location.

  The Saturday night before the mission, Sammy and Jeffie went out with Li and Kawai on a long walk following the Milk River. The moon was high and full, the air was cool, and the sounds of the water and wind were a balm on Sammy’s mind. It was at these rare moments when Sammy actually felt sixteen. Most other days, he was treated much older and expected to lead. Around his best friends, he could be himself.

  “You check in on Al again?” Li asked Sammy.

  “Yeah,” he said, “he’s doing better. Byron knows what to do, and now that Al is letting him … I think he’s going to be okay.”

  Kawai wrapped her arm around Li’s and cuddled into him as they walked. Jeffie and Sammy were content to link fingers. “Should we ask them?” Sammy overheard Kawai whisper to Li.

  Sammy and Jeffie glanced at each other, wondering what Kawai was talking about. They walked farther down the banks of the Milk River until they were only a meter from the water. Li and Kawai continued muttering to each other.

  “The moon is so full, so pretty,” Jeffie said softly to Sammy. “Where’s Venus?”

  Sammy stared at the stars until he spotted it, then he leaned close to Jeffie and pointed his finger at the bright planet.

  “Where’s Mars?”

  Sammy pointed again.

  “Where’s Mercury?”

  This one was more difficult, but eventually Sammy found it.

  “Where’s Uranus?”

  “It’s not visible to the naked—”

  Jeffie pinched Sammy’s butt cheek and started to giggle. “You fell for it!”

  Sammy rolled his eyes. “How lame can you be?” He tickled Jeffie’s ribs and she shrieked.

  “Stop!”

  “Is that Uranus?” He tickled her back and her stomach. “Is that? Is that?”

  “I’m going to pee!”

  Sammy let up. Jeffie took several deep breaths. Not far away, Kawai and Li were kissing each other as though the world was about to end. Sammy stood up and coughed loudly until they broke up.

  “Sorry, Sammy,” Li said, “didn’t see you there.”

  “Yeah,” Kawai added, “did you guys just get here? We thought we were alone.”

  Jeffie threw a handful pebbles at the other couple.

  “Okay! Okay!” Kawai cried. “Talking about our wedding just … gets me going. What can I say?”

  “Is that what you two were whispering about?” Sammy asked.

  “Actually, we were wondering,” Li said, “if it’s time to ask you two to be our best man and maid of honor.”

  “Us?” Jeffie asked. “Are we old enough?”

  “We have no idea,” Li asked. They all laughed. “But I don’t have any brothers.”

  “And I don’t have any sisters,” Kawai said. “You’re my best friend, Jeffie. You and Natalia. But I feel better asking you for some reason. I don’t think Natalia will take it too hard. By then you’ll be seventeen … maybe even eighteen depending on how long the war takes to end.”

  “So?” Li asked. “You guys cool with that?”

  Jeffie looked at Sammy. He shrugged. “Sure.”

  Kawai grinned widely and kissed Li.

  “Take it somewhere else!” Jeffie teased.

  The two broke apart again and stood up. “Well, maybe we will,” Kawai said with that same huge grin.

  Sure enough, the couple left, their feet making soft sounds in the river’s bank as they walked away. Jeffie leaned closer to Sammy until her head rested against his chest as they sat on the wet grass. The moonlight rippled in the water, creating a black and yellow gloss.

  “You don’t get nervous anymore, do you?” Jeffie asked.

  “I’m not nervous about tomorrow, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Lucky.” She put a hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. “I’m nervous, and I’m only the driver.”

  Sammy stroked her hair. “You’re just worried about me.”

  “It could get bad. And you’ll be deep underground. Not a lot of exits if things get crazy. Right?”

  “We have contingencies in place. We’ll be fine.”

  “I guess so.” She didn’t sound satisfied, which made Sammy wonder if there was something else.

  “Really, Jeffie. You don’t have to worry.”

  She sat up and hugged her legs. “Okay.”

  They didn’t speak for at least a minute until Sammy said, “Best man at Li’s wedding … What is a best man supposed to do? Doesn’t that mean I give a toast and wear a fancier suit than everyone else?”

  Jeffie shrugged. “What’s a maid of honor supposed to do?”

  They snickered together. “I guess they’ll tell us.”

  Jeffie’s smile vanished. “I need you to promise me you won’t use your Anomaly Thirteen.” She said the words so fast that Sammy took a moment to process them.

  “No. We talked about this. I can’t keep that promise.”

  “You can. I need you to do it. I need to hear you say the words that you’ll never use it again.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I know that if you don’t promise, I’m going to lose you. You’re going to think you’re strong enough to control it, and you won’t. Remember what Trapper said to you? I think he’s right.”

  “How do you know what Trapper—”

  “I’m not deaf, Sammy. I heard him through the door. I heard it all. I—I think you should listen to him.”

  Sammy’s hands started to shake, and for an instant he wanted to choke Jeffie—to squeeze her neck until it snapped. He closed his eyes and mentally transformed the urge into a leaf on a stream and watched it pass. It was something Croz had advised him to do in their session to help him deal with the Anomaly Thirteen.

  “I wish the choice was that simple.”

  “It is.”

  “It’s not. Would you really prefer to die than I use my anomaly to save you?” He locked eyes with her and waited for her response.

  She nodded. He watched to see if her nostrils would flare, the sign that she was lying, but they didn’t. Sammy let out a long breath through his nose and shook his head.

  “Well, I would rather use it than see you die.”

  “Do you want to be a Thirteen?”

  “What kind of question is that? I can control it.”

  Jeffie pulled away and kneeled next to him. “You are not special!”

  “I’m not saying I am, but I’m strong.”

>   “This is your weakness, not your strength. If you can’t recognize that, it will beat you.” Jeffie swallowed and ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t need you to be strong, I need you to be a little more humble and see some sense!”

  Sammy knew he could not make Jeffie understand. She would change her mind if it came down to it. She would ask me to break my promise.

  Jeffie frowned when she saw the defiance on Sammy’s face. Her tone softened when she spoke again. “Who is your best friend?”

  “Besides you? Brickert.”

  “And you would never hurt him, right?”

  “That was one time. One mistake.” The urge to strangle her returned. Sammy pictured leaf after leaf to calm himself.

  “If it happened once, it can happen again.”

  “It won’t!” His voice sounded more like a growl, and his eyes narrowed on her.

  Jeffie jabbed him in the chest. “Tell that to Brickert’s swollen face when you punched him how many times?”

  Sammy ground his teeth together.

  “Didn’t matter when you felt his bones break.” Her voice was hard and accusing. “Or heard his whimpering. Or saw him bleed all over your fist, did it? You just kept hitting him over and over and over and—”

  “SHUT UP!” Sammy bellowed, and his hand flew back, cocked and ready to fly at Jeffie.

  She jumped back and covered herself. Then Sammy realized what she had done. His cheeks and neck grew hot. The rage slowly collapsed until it was gone. In its place was emptiness and guilt.

  “I’m sorry,” Jeffie mumbled. “I wanted you to see.”

  Sammy hugged her and held her until she started to shake from her tears.

  “I don’t want to lose you, Sammy.”

  “You’re right. Okay?” He stroked her hair and held her tighter. The thought that he might have hurt her sickened him. It would have been something he could never take back. No apologies or sorrow could undo that. Even if she forgave him, he would never be able to look someone in the eye and say that he’d never hit her. “I promise, Jeffie. I promise I’ll never use it again.”

  11. Dark

  Monday, July 28, 2087

  SAMMY STARED OUT the front passenger window of the SUV as it pulled to a stop across the street from the magnificent memorial erected in downtown Mexico City: a bronze statue of men, women, and children reaching to the sky, eyes fixed heavenward. Floating above them and spinning serenely was a golden earth with a black scar where Mexico City was located. Similar edifices stood in Los Angeles, Lima, and other sites where supposed NWG terrorists had committed unthinkable acts over the last several years.

  Behind Sammy sat the four members of his team: Commander Byron, Anna Lukic, Li, and Kawai. As Sammy had promised, Jeffie drove the team to the mission site. Sammy absentmindedly played with his closely trimmed mustache as he watched people cross the street around the memorial block. His hair reached his shoulders and gave him a look of distinguished refinement, even for someone posing to be in his mid-twenties. He planned to cut it the moment he got home. The fake glasses he didn’t mind so much. As he’d predicted, Sammy looked nothing like the pictures shown all over the news.

  With her makeup and hairstyle, Kawai also looked to be in her mid-twenties. Li wore makeup as well, but it had been done very light and fine, with his hair doctored to make him look like a thirty-year-old man suffering from an early receding hairline. Byron, on the other hand, had dyed his hair to a graying brown, and a few anti-aging shots took about five years off his appearance. He looked like a man in his early forties instead of pushing fifty. Anna, meanwhile, did absolutely nothing to change her appearance.

  “Good luck,” Jeffie said to the team as they climbed out of the vehicle, but mostly addressing Sammy. “Be safe.”

  Sammy gave her a reassuring smile. “What could go wrong?”

  Jeffie grimaced. “Why would you tempt the fates and ask such a thing?”

  Byron, Kawai, and Anna closed their doors and crossed the street. Sammy got out, too. Blistering summer air blew his hair, instantly eliciting a sheen of moisture from his brow. He lingered a moment longer at the window with Jeffie. She grabbed his hand and held it, caressing the back of it with her thumb.

  “I love you.”

  Sammy grinned. “Thanks. I’ll take care of myself. Don’t worry.”

  Jeffie nodded and let him go. “One more thing,” she called to him.

  “What?”

  She grinned and kissed him. “You look really hot in that suit.”

  “I feel hot, too. Sweltering, even.” Smirking, Sammy joined the others just as they crossed the street, a messenger bag at his side. Li carried a small briefcase, while Anna had an even smaller attaché case. Inside the three cases were compartments of weaponized gas to be used if needed. All wore professional business clothes, retina-altering eye contacts, and nose filters to allow Sammy’s team to breathe the gas harmlessly. Sammy hadn’t worn a suit since his graduation from Psion Beta, but the dark green material and yellow dress shirt made him feel like a lawyer.

  The commander strode stoically as he led the team through the crowds streaming into the memorial: a steel dome supported by over seven hundred flat beams, a name and face of one victim of the bombing engraved on each. A large pool surrounded the dome, its waters ever flowing over the edge into a deep trough. Sammy and his team headed toward the nearby visitor center.

  Hundreds of bodies were crammed into the building to escape the relentless heat. The visitor center was half museum and half gift shop. Sammy and Anna pushed through the bodies until they came to the help desk where a man in a red blazer sporting a mustache thinner than a twig stood. “May I offer you my assistance?”

  “Actually you can,” Byron said, handing the man a business card. “We’re here as part of the inspection team. We have business downstairs.”

  The man in the blazer regarded Sammy’s team a second time, now with more interest. “Of course. I trust you have an appointment?”

  Trapper’s data had warned that this would be the exact question asked according to the system put in place by the fox’s organization, and that the response required had to be worded with equal specificity.

  “Everything has been arranged according to protocol.”

  “Good to hear,” the man in the blazer answered with a smile. Sammy couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not. “Please proceed after me.”

  He led the group through a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY, which opened to a short hallway with an employee break room, a stock room, and four offices. At the end of the hall was another door, this one made of metal, and a sign that read ELECTRICAL ROOM, and underneath, the symbol of a hand struck by a lightning bolt.

  The room was about the size of a walk-in closet with a concrete floor, electrical panels, and master switches controlling the power flow. Sammy wondered if a secret wall had been installed inside. The man in the blazer entered first, then beckoned the others to follow. Once they were all inside, the man in the blazer flipped three switches and the room began to descend. Sammy tried not to appear curious or impressed. While he recognized the danger the mission presented, Sammy couldn’t deny that being back in the field felt good. And infiltrating yet another secret CAG facility was even better.

  Then came the sudden urge to kill the man in the blazer. Grab his ugly coat, pull it over his head, and strangle him with your bare hands. Imagine how good that will feel. The throbbing heartbeat racing … then slowing … and stopping.

  Sammy cleared his throat and let the thought drift from his mind. But like a rubber band, it snapped right back with force.

  KILL. The force was so powerful it flowed through his body like a physical need.

  Sammy closed his eyes, but waiting for him were the images of himself shooting, stabbing, hacking, and ripping. Blood, limbs, and carnage everywhere. It dripped from him, pooling at his feet.

  The elevator descended for a full minute into the earth. When it opened, a woman with platinum blonde hair g
reeted them. “Hello,” she said with a nervous smile. Sammy noted the way she gripped her holo-tablet too tightly to her chest, how she glanced momentarily at the man in the blazer, and her overly wide eyes. “I’m Judy. We’re so pleased to have you here.”

  She’s nervous.

  According to the intel from Trapper’s cube, the inspection teams carried great weight with the fox regarding the operation of classified, off-the-books CAG programs. Employees deemed unfit for work in secure areas either received reassignment to remote, barren locations or went missing.

  “Let me introduce you to the Project Director,” Judy said. Then she thanked the man in the blazer with a curt nod.

  The Project Director was a thin, black man with slicked-back gray hair and bulbous eyes. He reminded Sammy of an aged praying mantis. When he smiled and surveyed them all, Sammy got the impression that the man wanted to eat them. His eyes rested the longest on Kawai in a slimy, wanting sort of way.

  “A pleasure to welcome you to my facility. I am—”

  “Fabian Earl,” Anna finished with her hand ready to shake his. “We’ve heard many things about you and the way you run this facility.”

  “Only good, I hope,” Fabian said, clearing his throat.

  “I’m sure you do hope,” Anna said in a straight voice.

  Fabian didn’t seem to know whether to laugh or not. “Well, you’ll see for yourself. The work we’re doing—the progress we’ve made—it’s remarkable. I’m confident you’ll be able to return to our sponsors with your highest commendations.”

  “We hope so, too,” Kawai said.

  “Then let’s begin!” Fabian clapped his hands together noiselessly.

  First he took them through the facility called H.A.M.M.E.R. The tour lasted almost two hours, filled with questions and notes—things inspectors would do. Inside, they observed the mental reconditioning of teenagers ranging in age from twelve to twenty-one. Sammy gripped the handle of his briefcase with both hands to stop them from shaking. He remembered vividly the metal helmet that had spun him around in cognitive circles day after day. When they walked past the cells, and Sammy saw the conditions some of the subjects lived in, he almost went ballistic. One kid was huddled on the floor, wet and bruised, muttering repeatedly to himself, “Happiness is obedience. True happiness is at the next level.” His eyes were glazed and dull.