Psion Omega (Psion series Book 5) (27 page)

When this was
finished, Sammy continued. “Now we need someone to lead the operation against
the broadcast station. Who will lead this team?”

Someone cleared a
throat behind Sammy. Thomas Byron had his hand raised. Lara hissed at him, “Put
your hand down. You’re too old.”

Thomas responded by
standing, his arm still high in the air. “Then I’ll ride a horse like
Washington, but I’m doing this!” he said obstinately.

No one opposed
Thomas. In fact, dozens offered to go with him, the vast majority from the
non-Anomaly members of the resistance. Once the matter was settled, Sammy moved
on to the next stage. “The strike on the capital will be a vast undertaking.
Strategy will be handled by the leadership committee and Commander Byron, our
liaison with the NWG military forces, but we still need leadership on the field
of battle and in the air. Who will volunteer to command our forces in D.C.?”

Justice Juraschek
raised a hand, his face solemn and resolute. Sammy was glad to see him take the
responsibility. It was quickly seconded.

“Anyone who wants
to join the strike on the capitol will be welcome no matter their training or
abilities. Volunteers should enlist with Justice and those he chooses to lead
the companies. Now for the last missions … both require two people trained in
covert ops to infiltrate the N Towers in Orlando and Rio. There is zero room
for failure, therefore we are asking for two Psions. Who will volunteer to lead
the team to Orlando?”

Three Psions raised
their hands: Ludwig, Li, and Commander Byron. Sammy’s chest swelled with pride,
and chose among the three. “Commander Byron has volunteered. Will anyone second
him?”

At first no one
did. And Sammy knew why. Byron could no longer blast from his feet. In that
regard, he was only half a Psion.

“I will second
him,” Kawai announced. “If anyone will ensure the job gets done, it’s the
commander.”

“Who will volunteer
to go with him?”

This time all the
Psions offered themselves. Sammy allowed the commander to choose. Byron
surveyed them for a full minute before stating, “I choose my son, Albert.”

Across the hall,
Marie let out a sob and headed toward the door. However, judging by his face,
the commander seemed firm in his decision. Now it was time to find the last
volunteer.

“The infiltration
of the Rio N Tower will be led by myself, which leaves two other spots, one of
which is already taken out of necessity by Vitoria Prado. Before I ask for a
volunteer for the final spot, I need to say two things: first, only a Psion can
go. Second … the nature of the mission is such that—that there will be no
returning.”

Sammy stared at the
floor. He didn’t want to look at his friends or Commander Byron. He didn’t want
them to think he was being brave because he wasn’t. Nor was he noble. He was
only keeping a promise. And he was tired of it all. No more dead Kadens and
Kobes and Toads and Annas and Dr. Vogts and Hefanis and all the others. No more
fighting an anomaly he didn’t want. No more losing control.

He looked up to see
who might have raised a hand—who might have volunteered for death.
Brickert, foolhardy as he was, might have. Or Jeffie or Kawai. His friends were
brave. Maybe one of them.

But he was wrong.

Every Psion in the
room stood. Every Psion raised a hand. Though he had already volunteered to go
to Orlando, Commander Byron stood tallest among them to show his support. He
was on his feet, wearing an expression of pride, his blue eyes beaming. Al
stood too. Walking back from the doors she’d just exited, one arm supporting
her baby girl, the other reaching for the ceiling, was Marie. Near her were
Rosa and Miguel. Not far were Li and Ludwig. Then Sammy came to his four
friends: Kawai Nujola, Natalia Ivanovich, Brickert Plack, and Jeffie Tvedt.

Tears rolled down
Jeffie’s cheeks as she held her arm high in the air. Sammy remembered their
conversation from months ago, before the trek to the Hive. He had quoted to her
a verse from the Book of Ruth.
Where thou
diest, will I die.

Is this what she thinks that means?
Sammy would not look at her, would not choose her. To choose her was to kill
her. But could he do that to Brickert? Or Kawai or Natalia? A gnawing deep in
his guts told him he couldn’t. He couldn’t pick anyone.

Two Psions. The mission requires two.

Another voice spoke
to him.
Who do you want to see die,
Sammy? Who gets under your skin the most? Maybe Ludwig? Would seeing him die
along side you give you some sense of satisfaction?

Sammy turned the
thought into a leaf and shoved it away, berating himself for thinking such a
thing. “With so many volunteers, the decision will have to wait until another
time. Thank you all for your participation and willingness to serve.”

The meeting
adjourned, and Sammy watched his friends make their way to the front to speak with
him. For a split second, he considered bolting through the back door and
blasting down the stairs, but he didn’t want to be alone.

Kawai reached him
first. “We’re going down to the river. You want to come?”

That was not what
Sammy had expected to hear, and he was glad. A few minutes later, he and his
friends crammed into Lemon and drove through the tunnels lit only by dim strips
down its center to separate traffic. Exits had been built into the passageways
every three kilometers, ensuring that no one had to walk extreme distances
underground in the event of car troubles. He parked the car in the tunnel and
they came up near the banks of the Milk River.

No one spoke about
the meeting. Instead the conversation revolved around the weather, how summer
was rapidly coming to an end in Glasgow, about how this might be one of the
last warm days of the year. Determined to enjoy it, they kicked off their shoes
and lay on the muddy bank, feet dangling in the cool water. The river wasn’t
large or deep, and the soft sounds of its sleepy flow soothed Sammy. He wished
he could turn off his brain for a few minutes, but all it wanted to do was
solve problems. The problem at this moment: which Psion should go with him?
Specifically, which person gave him the greatest probability of accomplishing
the mission?

Al: highly skilled in combat; mission competent; struggles with
staying focused. May also find it difficult to take orders from me. Currently
experiencing marital problems and a newborn child. Estimated chance of success:
69%

Though Sammy didn’t
want to consider Al, his brain still calculated the odds. Al was Commander
Byron’s only son, and the commander wanted him for the mission to Orlando.
Sammy dismissed the thought.

Kawai made a
comment to Li about how good the mud felt when she squished it between her
toes. Li responded with something about piranhas. Sammy glanced at them. They
had been a couple now for months. Both seemed happy.

Kawai: skilled in combat; completed the two-Thirteen sim at Beta
headquarters on most difficult level; more mature than most other Psions;
showed competence and poise during mission to the Hive; willing to take orders;
shows creativity under fire. Estimated chance of success: 77%.

The clouds rolled
overhead, an overcast late-summer day, beautiful and balmy. Natalia and
Brickert commented on the shapes of some of them, making each other laugh.
Sammy joined in watching them blow by. Clouds were transient things, just like
people.
We’re here and then we’re gone
.

Natalia: adequately skilled in combat; showed toughness and
maturity during mission to Colorado Springs; seems to perform better around
Brickert; follows orders but lacks ability to think on her feet. Recently
wounded but on the mend. Should be fully healed by November. Estimated chance
of success: 64%.

Brickert chuckled
at something Jeffie said, then started to make squelching sounds in the mud by
sticking his toes in deep and yanking them out. “Doing this … I almost feel
like a normal human being.”

“What’s normal?”
Sammy asked. But as he looked at his friend, the wheels continued to spin.
Brickert: competent in combat; demonstrated
extreme toughness and quick thinking during mission to Colorado Springs; shows
that he learns from mistakes; follows orders and displays high willingness to
excel. Estimated chance of success: 79%.

Brickert screwed up
his face. “I dunno. I think I forgot somewhere between living with other
superheroes and getting my face bashed in by sociopaths.”

Sammy shook his
head. He couldn’t ask Brickert. He didn’t want to do that to his best friend.
Natalia would crumble. He ran through all the names again. Then again. All with
their own pros and cons.

Eventually the
girls and Li walked down the riverbed, leaving Sammy and Brickert alone. No
sooner had they disappeared from sight than Brickert turned to Sammy and said,
“I want to go with you.”

“No.”

“I knew you were
going to say that. But listen, we’re brothers. There is no way in heaven or
hell that I will let you die unless I’m there, I’ll tell you. I’ve accepted
death. I did it the day the tower came down in Detroit. I should have been one
of the hundreds who bit it then. I’m on borrowed time. Maybe it’s for this.”

“Are you saying
that fate kept you alive so you could die with me in Rio?”

Brickert looked at
Sammy. “Maybe.”

“Are you becoming
religious, Brick?”

“What?” Brickert
snickered and sat up. “Like you?”

“I’m not … well, I
don’t know what I am. I guess I’ll find out soon enough, right? The clock is
ticking.”

“Sammy, please.
Please let me do this.”

“No.”

“It has to be
someone!”

“Not you.” Sammy
said it more firmly each time.

“Why not? Aren’t I
good enough? Let me make it easy on you. This way you don’t have to choose.”

“Not you.” Sammy
dug his hands into the muck, pushing back a sudden surge of rage. “You are not
on borrowed time!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s my
fault you almost died.” Sammy could no longer look at his best friend.
“I—I beat the hell out of you after I killed all the Thirteens. I almost
killed you myself.” His voice broke when he uttered the last words. “I lost
control and hit you and hit you until you … I—I’m so sorry, man.”

Covering his face
with muddy hands, Sammy fought back tears. Brickert nodded solemnly, his
expression unreadable. “I had dreams about that, you know, while I was out. I
thought they were nightmares.”

“Brick … I
am
a nightmare.”

“I’m sorry, Sammy.”

“What are you sorry
for?”

“Bearing that
burden must’ve been … I—I can’t even imagine. But look at me. I’m fine.”

Sammy put a dirty
paw on Brickert’s shoulder and pulled his friend into a tight hug. “And you
forgive me just like that?”

“Yeah, well, I
would have, but now you’ve gone and ruined my shirt.”

A laugh burst out
of Sammy. But the laughter broke something inside him and he nearly started to
sob. Again he stopped himself. He couldn’t cry. Wouldn’t. “I don’t want to die,
Brick.”

“I know. You don’t
have to.”

“I do.”

“Someone else can
do it instead.”

Sammy shook his
head. “I swore an oath.”

“We all swore the
same words. The duty rests upon every Psion.” Brickert sighed. It carried the
weariness of an old man. “So now what?”

“Somehow I have to
choose.”

“What if we all go
with you? All five recruits together.”

“That’s … overkill
… for lack of a better word.”

Brickert slapped the
mud. “None of us wants to die, and none of us wants to watch you go. You have
to do it strategically.”

“What does that
mean?”

“Who do you think
is the best person to take?”

“What do you
think’s been running through my brain for the last hour? Calculations. Numbers.
Data. Projections. All that crap. It’s all here.” He tapped his temple and got
mud in his hair.

“And what does it
tell you?”

Ludwig 51%. Rosa 59%. Miguel 69%. Strawberry 54%. Li 81%. Jeffie
…
“It tells me I need someone who complements my weaknesses, obeys orders
unquestioningly, and—and motivates me to use my maximum potential.”

Judging by
Brickert’s face, he knew the answer as well as Sammy.

“But I can’t ask
her.”

“That’s your call.”

Sammy let out a
long breath and sat up, his spine straight. “I am going to do this. It’s my
choice, so I’m done worrying about it. Jeffie can make her own decisions. If
she wants to go then who am I to tell her she can’t?”

* * * * *

Gone.
Gone
.
GONE!

It still did not
seem possible that a man with stubs for arms and legs could escape the
penthouse. She had torn apart the suite and not found a trace. Despite spending
countless hours searching, the Queen was no closer to learning the whereabouts
of the fox nor discovering how he had managed to engineer his own disappearance.
The notion that he’d grown new appendages and simply walked out was as likely
as every other theory. All she had learned for certain was that for over four
hours’ worth of time the cameras, alarms, and security systems had stopped
working.