Psion Alpha (38 page)

“Wow.”

“I
never competed again. But my performance earned the interest of the Bundesnachrichtendienst.
By my twenty-ninth birthday, my kills equaled my years of age.”

Her
eyes stayed trained on the trophy until she noticed him staring at it, too.
Byron didn’t know what to say. He wondered how many people—students,
especially—she’d told this story to. Very few, he guessed, if any.

“Once
you kill someone, it changes you. It deadens something inside of you like a poison.
One day you stop thinking about the fact that you’ve killed someone with your
own hands; put out the light in another human being. You forget about the kin
and the unfulfilled dreams that person may have left behind. You do this so you
can sleep better at night. Eventually you stop asking yourself if that person
deserved to die. Then, one day, you kill someone who didn’t deserve it, and you
realize what you are. A killer. Not a spy or a government agent—something you
once thought was glamorous—just a person meant to kill.”

Byron
nodded, swearing to himself that he would never become like that.

“When
that day came, Germany told me I was done. I had made a mistake. I was unsafe,
only good for one thing.… ”

“Training
others to kill.”

Clardonsky
stepped away from Byron. “The worst part is that sometimes you miss it. I can’t
explain why, but once you’ve experienced such power, you develop an appetite
which you were never meant to have.”

She
stopped speaking. Her thoughts were in some other place, somewhere that
frightened Byron because he hoped to never experience it. They stood in silence
in her private dojo for at least thirty seconds before she finally told him
that their session was over.

When
he reached the door, she spoke again. “Tomorrow. Your blasts. We have spent
much time practicing them, but now we will start exploring how to use them in
conjunction with your fighting. Tomorrow you and I will invent our own brand of
martial arts.”

Using
his blasts in training was the one bright spot of Byron’s break. The low point
was listening to his roommate give him a daily report of the Elite leader’s
investigation of Xian’s murder. Wu interviewed Byron and Otto once, but called
in Trapper three different times. Each time Trapper came back more and more
depressed.

“They
think it’s me,” he told Byron and Otto after the third interview. They sat
around their table in the cafeteria eating lunch two days before classes
resumed. “Emerald spoke to them, confirmed my story, but something weird is
going on here. I took a polygraph test and passed it, but I don’t know … Wu
seems to suspect me or something.” Trapper’s face was white and sweaty. His
voice dropped to a whisper. “What if they found my knife in Xian’s room or
something? It’d have my fingerprints and DNA all over it.”

Byron
glanced at the desk. “No. No way.”

“What
if I’m being set up by someone?”

“Who?”
Otto asked.

Trapper
shrugged. “Who do you think? Byron, you remember what you heard Diego say to
Omar when you were at the water fountain?”

“Yeah,”
Byron answered. “Of course I do. And I told Wu about it.”

“Who
else could it be?” Trapper asked. “Omar freaked out because Xian was waking up.
He didn’t want Xian to tell Wu how Omar jumped us. Diego must have helped him.”

“But
what about the knife, Trap? Where is it?”

“I
don’t know!”

“If
Commander Wu has the knife, you’d know,” Otto said. “They’d be waving it in
front of your face trying to get a confession out of you.”

“You
have to find it, Trap,” Byron said. “If Omar has it, you need to get it back.”

They
discussed at length several ways to search Omar and Diego’s dormitory, but were
interrupted when one of the post-graduates summoned Trapper. “Commander Wu
wants to see you in his office.”

Trapper
paled as he looked to his friends for sympathy. “I’ll be back.”

Otto
and Byron cleared the lunch table and headed for the mailboxes. “I feel bad for
Trapper,” Byron said. “I could have been a better friend the last couple of
weeks, but I was so ticked off when I heard about him and Emerald.”

“Why,
dude?” Otto asked as he unlocked his mailbox and pulled out a letter. He
surveyed the return address with a sour expression. Then he opened it with his
teeth. “You jealous?”

“What?
No. It made me mad that he would jeopardize his future—her future—for a sleazy
one night stand.”

They
continued down the hall toward the student lounge. “Dude, sounds like you’re
jealous. No offense or anything.”

“I
do not like Emerald!” Byron insisted. “How many times—” He stopped speaking
when he saw Otto’s face. Otto looked like he’d been slapped by a beautiful
girl. He crumpled the letter in his hand and stuffed it into his pants pocket.
“What happened?”

“Nothing.
My parents are Class A jackholes. That’s all.” Otto pushed past Byron, leaving
Byron to jog to catch up.

“You
want to talk about it?”

“What’s
there to talk about?” Otto yelled. “My dad is ‘displeased’ with me. Says my
grades aren’t good enough.”

“But
you rank in the top five percent of our—”

“I
told him that! He doesn’t care. Wants me in the top one percent or it isn’t
enough. He’s threatening me again with my trust fund. I hate that guy.”

“He
probably means well—”

Otto
punched the wall. “So stupid! I hate this!”

“Then
ignore it.”

“It’s
not that easy, dude.” Otto rubbed his knuckles tenderly. “It’s a ton of money.”

“How
much?”

Otto
glanced at Byron meaningfully. “Enough that I don’t want to lose it. The last
three generations of my family have done pretty much whatever they want for
employment because of the family wealth. My dad is a college professor. He
accepts a minimal salary. My grandfather was an agent for the BND.”

“What
does that stand for?”

“Bundesnachrichtendienst.”

“Your
grandfather? He worked for them?”

“Yeah.
Field agent. I heard some crazy stories from him.”

“Clardonsky
worked for—for … how did you pronounce it?”

“Boon-diss-nah-ree-ten-deenst,”
Otto said slowly. Byron still didn’t think he could say it properly. “I had no
idea she’d worked for them, but it doesn’t surprise me. She kill anyone?”

Byron
didn’t want to betray Clardonsky’s trust by telling Otto what she’d told him,
so he just shrugged.

“He’s
still connected with the BND, my grandfather. Said some of the agents
practically went rogue, became basket cases. I mean totally mental. Had to be
pulled out of the field or even, you know, killed.”

“Is
he even allowed to talk about this stuff?”

Otto
just shrugged. “I just hope Clardonsky wasn’t one of those who went mental.… ” They
reached the common area. No one was playing games. In fact, a large crowd was
gathered around the television, eyes fixed on the news. Otto and Byron joined
the throng to see what was so interesting.

“We
can now confirm this number,” the anchorman announced on the screen in the
lounge, “four thousand six hundred and thirty deaths from this new virus which
some experts are already calling the Second Scourge.”

“I
don’t believe it,” Otto said, his eyes fixed on the screen. Byron watched, too,
with a stunned expression. “It’s like God is trying to wipe us out or
something.”

“The
New World Government Center for Disease Control is urging people not to panic.
Only initial tests have been performed, and no official statements have been
released. It is believed all cases have been quarantined. However, if you have
been exposed to anyone listed on the NWGCDC website, you are urged to contact
your local emergency department and submit yourself to medical quarantine.
Please, for the good of humanity, take every precaution you can.”

The
news of a potential Second Scourge was on everyone’s mind and in every topic of
conversation Byron overheard. Students and faculty could be seen watching the
reports or reading articles everywhere he went. But with only a day remaining
before classes resumed, Byron also started to feel anxious about Emerald. Would
she return? He couldn’t imagine life at the ETC without her and Xian. Whenever
he was around Otto and Trapper, Team Oddball was incomplete. The few students
who had left for the break were scheduled to return the evening before classes,
arriving with the new group of Elites-in-training. To calm himself, Byron spent
hours in the dojo, sparring with other students and working the bags. His
combat skill showed improvement, he had no doubts about that. He beat almost
every student willing to fight him.

When
the time finally came for the new students’ arrival, Trapper, Byron, and Otto
went down to the building nearest the entrance gate to wait for her. The large
passenger airplane landed and busses awaited only meters away. It was so cold
that even minutes spent outside could be deadly. Byron remembered nearly dying
as he’d wandered through the tundra, and shuddered despite the warmth in the
room. Hundreds of new first year students filed off the plane and boarded the
bus with their baggage. When the first bus was filled, the second pulled
forward. They watched as the first bus traveled the kilometer or so to the
entrance gate, and the students filed out. Emerald was not among them.

The
second bus filled, and the third replaced it. When the second bus emptied,
Emerald did not appear. Trapper started to fidget as the third and final bus
closed its doors and rolled forward. Byron watched his roommate, wondering if
he was more worried about her returning because of his feelings for her or
because she was his alibi.

The
third bus unloaded. Byron watched the faces of the students disembarking. He
recognized a couple of them from his class, all toting their luggage, talking,
and laughing. Byron wished he could feel so carefree right now. The longer
Trapper waited for her to show, the deeper the lines in his face grew. His lips
moved but no sound came out, as though silently begging Emerald to be on the
bus. However hard he was praying or pleading, the last of the students stepped
off, and it wasn’t her. The door closed, and the bus pulled away.

CHAPTER
TWENTY
- Coari

Thursday, January 2, 2087

LATE
in
the afternoon, Sammy and his team—which now consisted of himself, Jeffie,
Kawai, Li, Nikotai, Lorenzo, Maad Rosmir, and the Hudecs—arrived at the edge of
Lake Coari. The remainder of the journey had not been without event. Smaller
groups of animals had attacked their party, particularly at night, but these skirmishes
had been nothing compared to what they’d faced nearly a week earlier.

The
trees ended near the edge of the lake, surrounding it like an army. Sammy
stared at the sky for minutes, taking in the unbroken view. The lake stretched
out as far as he could see. It wasn’t especially beautiful or picturesque. Mud
swirled in the waters. Fish, snakes, and other critters swam past. Yet the
scene symbolized something to Sammy: an incredible accomplishment of the
collective will of his team. The southernmost finger of Coari stretched on
forever toward the northeast. From the tip of the finger to the point of the
lake where the three fingers converged spanned over fifty kilometers. Somewhere
up there was the Hive.

Jeffie
came up behind him and took his hand. “We made it,” she said. Her eyes shone
with excitement. “There were times.… ”

“Lots
of times,” he told her. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

She
gazed into the water and nodded. “Yeah, I am. And thank you for having faith in
me.”

“I
ain’t never been so happy in my life,” Duncan said as he joined Sammy and
Jeffie on the shore. “Don’t tell my wife I said that.”

“Let’s
set up camp,” Sammy said. “Big day tomorrow, and we all need rest.”

The
mood that evening remained cheerful. They lounged around the fire and discussed
anything besides tomorrow’s mission. There was so much unknown, so many things
that could go wrong. Sammy tried not to dwell on any worries. He felt due for
something to go right for once in his life.
Why not tomorrow?

The
lake cooled the air around the camp. Sammy slept in his cot covered by a net,
more comfortable than he’d been in weeks. Lorenzo, Dave, Duncan, and Li
insisted on taking the night watches so Sammy, Jeffie, and Nikotai could get
rest. As Sammy drifted off to sleep, he could hear them conversing in low tones
about the mission.

Early
the next morning, Dave Hudec shook him awake. “It’s at least two hours before dawn.”

“Thanks.
Are the others awake?”

“They’re
gettin’ up now.”

Sammy
helped make breakfast. Powdered scrambled eggs and powdered oatmeal. It wasn’t
tasty, but they had very few options. Unlike last night, all conversation
focused on the mission. Everyone knew what was going to happen, but it had to
be reviewed.

He,
Jeffie, and Nikotai would infiltrate the facility while the rest of the team,
led by Li, waited. Sammy, Jeffie, and Nikotai had one hour to swim up the lake
and infiltrate the Hive before their heat-absorbing wetsuits failed and
betrayed their presence to the Hive’s thermal scanners.

Once
inside, Jeffie and Sammy would attempt to use the brain scanner on Diego on the
building’s third level while Nikotai would head to the second level, awaiting
the passcode to hack the Hive’s systems and shut down the thermal and
electronic sensors. This would allow Sammy’s group to communicate with Li’s team
via com to hand-generator radio without detection, and also call the Elite
pilots waiting in Bogota to retrieve them from the Hive. Once radio contact was
established, Li’s group would attach a portable motor to one of the rafts, race
up the lake to the facility, and be ready to provide any needed backup. If two
and a half hours went by without word from Sammy, Nikotai, or Jeffie, Li’s team
would throw caution to the wind and take the raft to the Hive.

After
breakfast, Sammy, Jeffie, and Nikotai prepped their thermal wetsuits. The suits
had a double gel layer to absorb and mask their body temperatures up to
sixty-five minutes, give or take five depending on the temperature of the
water. The underwater breathing apparatus would last roughly the same amount of
time. Each swimmer had a small waterproof pack with weapons and a change of
clothes. Jeffie’s also held extra ammo and flares, Sammy’s had his brain scanner,
and Nikotai’s included his hacking equipment.

“Before
we start,” Lorenzo said, “I’d appreciate it if we had a word of prayer.”

Sammy
glanced at Jeffie and Nikotai. Neither of them seemed to mind.

“Everyone
gather up,” Lorenzo announced. “Power in numbers, my dad always said.”

“I
don’t,” Li began, “I mean, I’m not—”

“S’okay.”
Lorenzo waved off Li’s concerns. “Pretend to be for a minute. Sammy, you’re our
leader. You should say the prayer.”

Sammy
looked at him in shock. “I’ve—no—it’d be best if someone else said it. I’ve
never said—it’s not something I’m—you know … I’m comfortable doing.”

This
didn’t seem to bother Lorenzo, either. “Now’s as good a time as ever, right?”

He
chuckled at his own comment, though no one else did. Sammy wasn’t sure whether
anyone else expected him to pray, so he glanced around. The Hudecs, Kawai, and
Jeffie all watched him expectantly. Not wanting to make a scene, he closed his
eyes and shook his head.

“Okay
… dear God.” He tried to picture some great, omnipotent being in his mind, but
didn’t know what to think of, so he thought about his own father, instead.
“Please keep us all alive. And also help us to do what we came here to do. That
is … uh … help us to collect the intel from the Hive’s servers so we can use it
to win this war. Amen.”

Several
“amens” followed Sammy’s. Before the group broke up, Lorenzo took Sammy’s hand
in his own and linked their fingers together. Lorenzo’s hands were much bigger
than Sammy’s, his skin dry and caked in dirt. The older man closed his eyes and
bowed his head. Sammy watched him, fascinated.

“Also,
Holy Father—Sammy didn’t quite cover everything we need—so I’m going to add a
bit, if he doesn’t mind. You see, we got important work to do today. You’ve
helped us cross this terrible jungle. You took some of our friends from us.
That’s your business, Lord. But now we gotta get the job done, and we can’t
afford to lose no more. So please watch out for us. If we get shot at, let the
bullets miss us. And when we shoot back, let ‘em strike right between the eyes.
Cause if there’s Thirteens in there, you know they deserve it. And bless our
friend, Li, to believe in you. And Sammy, too, because he says he’s
undecided
… whatever that means. Amen.”

A
louder chorus of “amen” came from the group, even Li, who smirked at Lorenzo.
Lorenzo winked back, then slapped him on the shoulders. Sammy, Jeffie, and
Nikotai stripped off their clothes until they wore nothing but their swimming
gear. Then they dressed in their wetsuits. Sammy hated wearing it. It always
felt on the brink of tearing. It covered his feet, his hands, his head, and had
goggles built into the eyes. The nose was also closed, but the mouth had a slit
for the breathing apparatus.

Nikotai
wore a compass around his wrist, but hardly needed it. According to him, Ultras
possessed a keen sense of distance and direction, which Sammy found to be as
reliable as a compass. Once they donned their suits and swim packs, the three
companions took hands, Nikotai in the middle, and walked into the water until
they could step no further. Then, breathing apparatuses in place, they took the
plunge.

The
water was murky. Sammy guessed his field of visibility ended at two meters.
In
Nikotai we trust.
He and Jeffie provided the thrust via their feet blasts
while Nikotai kicked. Between the three of them, they reached speeds of about
fifty kilometers per hour. Nikotai directed their movement through the dimness.

They
stayed close to the floor of the river bed. Here Sammy could see the fish,
eels, and weed-like flora flourishing in the deep. He tried not to pay too much
attention to the wildlife, and focused on powering them through the water.
Occasionally Nikotai squeezed his hand to signal minor adjustments in their direction.
He also gave the long squeeze every ten minutes to ask if Sammy was all right.

The
first half hour passed without a hitch. Then Sammy received several hand
squeezes from Nikotai. He strained his eyes to see what the problem was, saw
nothing of concern, yet the hand squeezes continued. It was the sign to ascend.
Sammy directed his blasts downward to the lake floor and so did Jeffie. In less
than a minute’s time, three heads breached the surface.

Sammy
took his breathing apparatus out of his mouth. “What’s the matter?”

Nikotai
pointed to the north. Sammy saw something sticking out of the water.

“What
is that?”

“A
fence. Didn’t want to crash into it.”

They
took hands again and swam closer to the obstruction. It was, indeed, a fence.
Sammy cursed silently as he surveyed it. It towered over the surface of the
water at least five meters. And though he couldn’t see how far it stretched to
his right or left, he guessed it went all the way to both edges of the lake.

“Go
around it?” Jeffie suggested. “Climb it?”

“I
can’t imagine it would be that easy,” Sammy said. “They could have motion
detectors or something else around the borders. Can’t risking damaging our
suits climbing it”

Nikotai
shook his head.

“So
we either go around or cut it.”

The
fence links were made of thin, stiff metal wires. It amazed Sammy that Nikotai
could even see it from such a distance. He had to make a decision quickly.

“There’s
a good chance if we cut this we activate something. An alarm or sensor. On the
other hand, going around could be just as treacherous.” His brain whirred and
spun, but nothing came to him except the cold hard fact that they didn’t have
enough time to go around the fence. “All right, let’s cut it.”

In
her bag, Jeffie had the tools for cutting through the underwater ventilation
system they planned to enter. She took the pack off, held it above the water
using the aid of her blasts, and retrieved the tool. “Who’s going to—?”

“I
will,” Sammy said, taking the cutters from her.

He
held the cutters over the first wire, hoping he’d made the right choice. Then
he snipped. No sooner had he cut the wire then a loud mechanical sound came
from somewhere unseen, beneath the surface of the water.

“What
was that?” Jeffie asked.

“No
idea,” Nikotai answered. “Sammy, keep cutting. I’ll go under and take a look.”

Sammy
focused on speedily cutting a hole in the fence large enough for them to pass,
but there were so many wires and the deep, metallic sound droned on for several
seconds. From behind, he heard Jeffie’s breathing quicken.

Nikotai’s
head breached the surface. “Cut fast, Sammy.”

“What
is it? What’s coming?”

“Something
terrible. But worry about cutting.”

Sammy
worked as efficiently as he could. Jeffie dipped her head underwater for about
twenty seconds. When she came back up, she, too, urged Sammy to work quickly.

“What
is it?” He snipped two more wires. Only about twenty more to go.

“I
can’t tell. It looks like a cloud of green light coming toward us.”

Sammy
didn’t like the sound of glowing green clouds, especially underwater ones.
Nikotai breached the lake’s surface again. “Ten seconds, Sammy! Ten seconds!”

Without
any effort on his own part, a count started in Sammy’s head.

Nine.…

He
snipped three more wires. Fifteen to go.

Eight.…

He
worked the cutters as fast as he could. Wires snapped like broken guitar
strings.

“Get
your breathers in!” he told them. “Be ready to go as soon as I finish. I’ll use
my blasts to block the hole and stun… whatever it is.”

Five.…

Just
a few wires remained. Sammy took them out in two quick cuts. Furiously, he
waved Jeffie and Nikotai through the gap. As he ducked his head under the water
to follow, he saw that the approaching cloud was made up of dozens of glowing fish.