Mind Storm (11 page)

“Contact Keiko,” Ciari said. “Tell her to report to my office in twenty minutes.”

Ciari left Jael behind and returned to her office with determined strides, where she followed protocol and contacted Erik once again. She sent the request red-lined as priority, and he answered more quickly than she thought he would.

“We have a problem, sir,” Ciari said when the connection was made.

“It hasn't even been half an hour, Ciari. It takes less than a minute to fry a psion's brain. What could
possibly
be the problem?” Erik said.

“The neurotrackers were activated. The kill results are inconclusive. They spiked as human on the grid.”

Erik stared at her. “That's impossible. A psion's baseline is nowhere close to a human's.”

“Those are the results, sir.”

“I want the results changed. Immediately.”

“Of course, sir.”

It was just like him to want the impossible.

The connection cut off and Ciari leaned back against her chair. She let out a long sigh, thinking about everything that had gone wrong just now and what had gone right.

Keiko walked into her office ten minutes later, expression neutral, even if her tone of voice wasn't. “Jael told me what happened. Your orders?”

“I'm sending you to Russia. The World Court wants answers.”

“I'll see what I can find.”

PART THREE

NEGOTIATION

 

SESSION DATE
: 2128.06.02

LOCATION
: Institute of Psionics Research

CLEARANCE ID
: Dr. Amy Bennett

SUBJECT
: 2581

FILE NUMBER
: 514

A nurse holds her arm gently, carefully extracting yet another vial's worth of blood as the doctor looks on. When the nurse is finished, she leaves with what she came for, and it is only the two of them again. Aisling carefully touches the small bandage that covers the hole in her skin.

“You won't find what you're looking for,” Aisling says, glancing up at the doctor. “You think you can stop the wars by trying to make me better, but you can't.”

“I think you need to share with us exactly what you know,” the older woman says as she taps her fingers against the table in a steady rhythm. “It's been months, Aisling. The bombs are still dropping.”

“They've been dropping for years.”

“You can stop it.”

“It doesn't stop here.” Aisling kicks her feet and sighs, sulking. “You're like her, you know that? Threnody thinks I know everything, too.”

“Again with this Threnody,” the doctor says in exasperation. “You've mentioned her exactly twenty-three separate times now.”

“She's my favorite imaginary friend.”

“Aisling,” the doctor says as she crouches down beside the girl's chair. “You know what you see isn't imaginary.”

“I know,” Aisling whispers, sounding scared as she curiously tilts her head to the side, wires brushing her face. “I almost wish it was, though. I just don't want to worry you.”

[
EIGHT
]

AUGUST 2379
LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM

Jason came awake to a roaring, screaming pain in his head that made it impossible to think. For once, the pain wasn't caused by his power, just his actual
skull
, and that was enough to drive the unconsciousness away.

Blinking slowly down at the dirty gray floor stained liberally with blood, Jason realized that he could see clearly in all the human visual spectrum, along with the overlay of data in his eyes. His inspecs were back online, which was impossible without surgery, and this sure as hell wasn't the medical level back at headquarters.

He tried to move and became immediately aware that was impossible. The power clamped down on him was familiar, a telekinetic strength that he recognized and couldn't break. Bent forward, spine arched, Jason could sense someone behind him, even if he couldn't see the person. He couldn't feel a damn thing at the back of his skull, but the rest of his head was feeding him pain. He could feel the blood that was trickling down his back. He could smell it, too.

“Interesting dilemma, you know,” that vaguely familiar tenor said through the hum of a sterility field, and thank fuck for that, because this place didn't look clean at all. “Your natal shields never fell. You're going to feel this more than the rest of your team since I can't get very far into your mind to block the pain. First time
that's
ever happened.”

A pair of scuffed, all-terrain black boots stepped into his sight, but even when he rolled his eyes upward, Jason couldn't see the person's face. Not that he needed to. Even doped up on drugs, it was difficult to forget the shock he had felt when they'd learned that a Serca was a high-Classed psion. Difficult to forget those eyes. Made him wonder about the rest of that famous family and if Lucas was merely an anomaly or
normal
for the Sercas.

“What have you done with them?” Jason managed to get out through clenched teeth. He didn't bother to correct Lucas's assumption that the four of them were a team. At the moment, he really only cared about Kerr, but he could worry about Threnody and Quinton. Especially Quinton. He kind of liked the way the other man looked.

Lucas's tone was amused. “They're recovering, even if everyone's pissed that they can't use their powers. I have them blocked. The doctor's almost finished with you.”

“What?”

More blood trickled down his back and Jason squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't know what was going on behind him, not until something clattered on the floor an indeterminable amount of time later. He opened his eyes and stared at the tiny, oval-shaped device with six short spikes and six long filaments of bioware wet with his blood that had been tossed near his feet.

Jason didn't need to ask what it was. He knew, just as every Stryker knew, about the neurotracker one was implanted with upon joining the Stryker ranks. He also knew that removing it should have instantly killed him. Any tampering sent out an immediate signal to the government as a red alert. Standard operating procedure was to terminate. At the very least, the Strykers would know—
should
know—that he wasn't wearing it anymore. Which meant—

Jason laughed, the sound desperate. “I thought you said you didn't want to kill us, because you just did.”

The neurotracker lifted off the floor and was drawn upward by invisible telekinetic power, settling into Lucas's hand. He crouched down in front of Jason, focusing on him. No apologies were to be found in his gaze.

“Its programming is active. The signal, while blocked right now, still functions. When the time comes, it will send through the government's security grid, even if it's no longer in your head,” Lucas said. “They'll be implanted into some desperate bond worker attached to the skin trade. This procedure is one that my side has done before.”

Jason swallowed drily. “And when the government flips the switch, your chosen little carriers will be dead instead. Do
they
know that?”

“Of course not. They just think they were paid for a body transfer over international lines. You should really be happy about being taken off your leash, Jason. Most of you Strykers are when we pull you off the field before you're terminated.”

Jason squinted up at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Nothing that matters at the moment, since I'm no longer a Warhound. I haven't been for many years.”

“I doubt that.”

“Lucky for both of us I don't care what you think, just what you can do.”

Lucas stood up and walked away. Jason had no other choice but to stay where he was, listening to a strange, rough voice mutter behind him as this doctor, whoever he was, grafted pieces of his skull back together and closed his skin inside the safety of the makeshift sterility field. Whatever drugs he'd been given were beginning to wear off quickly, and Jason could feel
exactly
what had been done to him. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe through it all.

Eventually it was over. The operation complete, Lucas lifted the telekinetic hold he had on Jason. Able to move, Jason straightened up in the seat and immediately regretted it. Nausea came, swift and brutal, and he puked stomach acid onto the floor while Lucas kept him from falling over with a hand on his shoulder.

Jason lifted one hand to the back of his skull, feeling the small area of shaved hair there, the sealed skin, and the hardness of a quick-heal patch. His bones ached.

“I can give you more drugs,” Lucas said. “Except you know as well as I do that a psion's metabolism will burn through them in less than thirty minutes. Still want them?”

“I'll manage,” Jason rasped as he spat bile-coated saliva onto the floor.

“Better than most, I suspect. Come on. Your team captain seems to think I'm torturing you, even though I already proved that I wasn't after putting Quinton and Kerr through the same procedure. She got to go first.”

“We aren't a team. She's not my captain.”

“I know. But it irritates her to be called that.”

Lucas hauled Jason to his feet, watching critically as the Stryker struggled to stay upright. The doctor shuffled around the operating area, and Jason nearly lost control of his stomach again after getting a good first look at the man's face.

The doctor had no eyes and half his skull had been replaced by metal plating. In place of organic material was bioware designed to process images to the brain in microscopic layers that traditional human eyesight could never hope to attain. Glittering wires frayed out of the man's eye sockets around tiny optics, twining back inside his body through his temples, feeding into his brain. Everything about the doctor's appearance was illegal, and Jason felt contaminated just looking at him.

“Korman is one of the finest transplant surgeons on the black market,” Lucas said, sounding almost cheerful as he steered Jason out of the room. “The best part is that he did all of this for free.”

“Only because you altered his mind,” Threnody said as they stepped out into a cluttered living space, if one could call the mess livable. Her voice, Jason noticed, was slurred just a little.

“You say that like it's a bad thing.”

The faint sound of displaced air came from the makeshift operating room. Jason glanced over his shoulder, seeing that the doctor had disappeared. “Warhound?”

“No,” Lucas said calmly. “Mine. I teleported him somewhere else to finish the transfer.”

The three Strykers were sitting around a rickety table in various stages of recovery. Jason's eyes settled on Kerr, and the telekinetic moved over to his partner as quickly as he could, sitting down heavily on the bench there.

“You're bleeding through your shields,” Jason said, studying the familiar pain lines on Kerr's face that weren't all just because of the surgery. “Get behind mine.”

Kerr's face twisted just a little. “Jays, you just got out of
brain
surgery. I can't—”

“That wasn't a goddamn request, Kerr. Just do it.”

Jason pretended that Lucas wasn't watching them, that he didn't have his telepathy anchored tightly in their thoughts, allowing what needed to be done only after Jason glared at him. Kerr burrowed through the bond that linked him to Jason, transferring as much of his power behind the thick natal shields that stood out in stark relief against Jason's mind as he could. The pressure in Kerr's own mind eased, leveled off, as Jason's shields took up the task of protection that he was incapable of providing himself.

“Interesting.” Jason glanced over at Lucas, not liking the calculating look in those dark blue eyes. Lucas just smiled, the expression remote as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I'm sure all of you have questions.”

“You think?” Threnody's voice was caustic. “You condemned us to rogue status.”

“I saved you,” Lucas corrected. “And if you want to know why, you'll follow me outside.”

“Here's not good enough?”

“These walls have eyes and ears that I don't trust. Camden Market is safer.”

It wasn't, not really, but Strykers thought differently from Warhounds. Threnody stared at Lucas, details clicking into place about what they now knew of the Serca Syndicate, and what they knew of the Warhounds. Camden Market was in London, and London was dominated by the Serca Syndicate as much as it was by the government.

“You brought us to the Warhounds' home turf and you think this is
safe
?” she demanded.

“What better place to hide you than here in plain sight?” Lucas reached up and tapped the side of his head before sliding a pair of dark glasses over his eyes. “I've got you all off the mental grid under my power. You read as human, just like I do, and I can make all of you disappear completely if I need to.”

“How?” Kerr asked.

“Today's not the day you learn that trick. Now let's go.”

They left the back-alley surgery room for the pipe dreams and broken promises of Camden Market because they had no choice. Quinton kept a hand on Threnody and both eyes on Lucas, while Kerr helped Jason up the rickety stairs to the street. The silent looks the four shared were mirrored by the thoughts in their heads. If there was even a slim possibility at escape, could they take it?

You won't get further than the thought of it,
Lucas promised.
So don't bother trying.

Threnody stumbled on the way up, swearing as Quinton caught her before she hit the crumbling cement steps. Her arms and legs were shaking ever so slightly, and it wasn't just because of the operation.

“Can you feel?” Quinton asked her as he took more of her weight.