Psion Omega (Psion series Book 5) (32 page)

“Our forces launched a bio-bomb
that detonated on the ghost towns of Glasgow and Saint Marie in Mid-Western
American territory. Such a serious measure was held in reserve until our
intelligence agencies verified that the sites were the locations of the rebel
insurgents. Since then, we’ve sent in ground forces to secure the area,
confirming four hundred and forty-five casualties and no survivors.”

That’s
almost half of the members of the resistance living in the area
. Sammy’s guts
tightened as he thought of all the dead. Next to him, Kawai sniffed wetly and
wiped at her red and raw eyes.

“Many of the dead were NWG
citizens—transplants and terrorists—sent here to sow discord and
fear among us during our war effort. Many of you watched the address from
Thomas Byron, father of a confirmed NWG defector, and longtime known suspect. I
urge you to inform yourself on the facts. The CAG has provided a website which
debunks the claims Thomas Byron made. Several news stories have been and will
be released through a conjoined effort between the government and national
media to set the story straight. Congressmen and women are traveling to their
homes to meet with constituents and answer questions.

“I urge everyone to have patience
and the peace of mind that the government will take care of you. We desire and
work for nothing more or less than the absolute safety of America. And, as you
have seen, your trust in us is not misplaced.”

Sammy sighed and
looked at Red Benton. “Two rooms please. And a doctor if there’s one available.”
Thomas’ speech hadn’t worked. The government was already making the resistance
look like fools.
No, not fools. Like
dangerous, evil people
.

But it didn’t
matter now. The resistance was in tatters.

Saturday, November 8, 2087

THE STEALTH CRUISER rocketed toward
Orlando carrying three passengers: Commander Byron, his son, Albert, and the
Elite, Kallen Dinsmore. Dinsmore slept in the back seat. Albert was awake,
seated in the co-pilot’s chair, his face pointedly turned away from his father.

“Do you remember
after Rio,” Albert said softly, “when I kept telling you Sammy was alive? And
you didn’t believe me?”

Byron thought this
was a strange question, but didn’t say that. His relationship with Albert,
though slowly improving, was still tenuous at best. “I do remember.” The
commander rubbed a little sleep out of his eyes. “The odds were so unlikely. It
was not as though I did not want to believe you. My experience simply told me
otherwise.”

“But I knew I was
right. I couldn’t explain it.”

“You were. And I am
still glad you were. Remember, I helped you, gave you access to resources to
investigate your hunch.”

Albert sniffed and
pinched the skin on his forehead above his nose. “I—I don’t have that
same feeling about Grandma.” His voice broke. “Are you okay, Dad? You haven’t
said anything about her since—since Glasgow.”

Byron swiped at a
tear forming in his eye. “Now is not the time to grieve, Albert. We have to
stay focused. As soon as we start allowing ourselves to think about our pain,
we lose our focus. And we really cannot afford that.”

Byron rolled his
shoulders and every joint popped. His body ached from lack of sleep. After the
attack on the resistance, preparation for the mission became ten times more
difficult. Each team needed their supplies, and the remnants of the leadership
council had only two days to get equipment to where it needed to be. Dozens of
the survivors of the bomb and even members of the resistance living outside the
compound had stepped up in a big way.

Teams had been
mobilized to retrieve essential equipment, personnel, and stored weapons from
scattered locations and brought to Sammy, the commander, and Thomas. Sleep had
not been a priority. Some teams had driven for almost forty-eight hours
straight to make the deliveries on time and keep the planned missions on
schedule. Fortunately, Justice Juraschek had worked around the clock with Khani
Nguyen to organize the transportation and get everyone and everything to their
rightful places.

Hours passed in
silence. When Commander Byron wasn’t thinking about his son or his mother, his
thoughts went to Samuel and Jeffie. The two were headed to Rio in the other
stealth cruiser, along with Vitoria. Headed to death if they succeeded. And
death if they failed.

Several times during
the flight, he considered calling Sammy via his com, but decided against it.
Khani Nguyen had cautioned them against using their coms now that the CAG had
raided the resistance headquarters. Their coms weren’t safe and only to be used
when necessary.

It should be me in Rio.

Byron closed his
eyes and cursed his legs.
If only they
were whole
…
it would be me on that
mission.

He landed the
cruiser on the banks of the Wekiva River and roused Kallen Dinsmore. After
helping to unload their equipment bags and two motorcycles from the cargo, the
Elite wished Albert and the commander a safe mission and flew off, back to the
north.

“The mission never
seems real until drop-off,” Commander Byron said. “Does it feel that way to
you?”

Albert nodded and
looked up at the sky. “We should get going.”

They rode down back
roads and highways in silence, though they could communicate via their coms
should they want. Somewhere up in the sky another stealth cruiser flew toward
Rio carrying Sammy, Jeffie, and Vitoria. At times like these, Byron almost
wished he hadn’t grown so fond of his pupils at Psion Beta.

But that was the
life of a soldier. Growing fond of someone and then letting them go. The
commander hadn’t thought of that all those years ago when he signed up with
General (then Commander) Wu. Despite the death Byron had seen even as early as
at the Elite Training Center, he hadn’t imagined he’d see so much more. He
hadn’t fathomed that almost everyone he’d recruited would die. He had trained
almost a hundred Psions over the years. And while he wasn’t certain how many
still lived, he guessed the number was somewhere around thirty.

Thirty …
Forty
if I am lucky.

Li was the latest.
All the other Psions had made it out of Glasgow and Saint Marie before the
bio-bomb’s blast reached them and ripped their very cells apart. But the impact
of Li’s death had been swallowed by the loss of Byron’s mother. Her group had
been in a packed car trying to escape Glasgow, unable to escape the bomb’s
radius. Byron’s father had been speaking to her over the com, urging her on,
when her end of the line had gone dead. Bio-bombs had no effect on electronic
equipment like coms, only living organisms.

Byron’s father
refused to discuss his wife’s death. Taking his cue from his father, Byron
focused on Albert and the mission. The chance that he might not survive was
very real. But Albert … Albert had to survive. His son needed to be there for
his granddaughter. Albert had to make things right with Marie.

Almost as though
his son had been reading his thoughts, Albert said to his dad over their helmet
radios, “Why did you pick me?”

“Lots of reasons.”

“Like what?”

Now Byron actually
had to think about what those were. “First of all, I trust you. Second, I think
you need this.”

“What does that
mean? Does that have something to do with Marie?”

Commander Byron’s
silence was enough of an answer for his son.

“I told you I
didn’t want to discuss her, Dad.”

“And I am honoring
that agreement. But you asked me to explain—”

“Fine. Never mind.”

They rode side by
side. Occasionally Byron passed Albert or vice versa, but they stayed about a
meter apart. The highway they traveled was long, dark and mostly straight as it
headed south toward downtown Orlando.

“Regardless of my
reasons for choosing you, I am grateful you accepted. Besides your mother’s
death, your mission to Rio was the worst thing that has ever happened to me.
Martin Trector … Cala … Sammy. I thought I had failed you, failed everyone as a
trainer and instructor. The idea that my poorly executed leadership had put you
in danger ate at me. I offered my resignation to General Wu, but he turned it
down and told me to fix the problem.”

“You never told me
that,” Albert said.

“I considered
telling you, but I already knew you would not want me to leave Beta headquarters.
And I was capable of weighing the pros and cons on my own.”

“Are you saying
that’s what Marie did? Are you condoning her choice?”

Byron swerved his
motorcycle around a curve. “No, no. I am not saying anything about that.”

“Good,
because—”

“I know. Marie is
off-limits as a topic of conversation.”

They did not speak
again until they reached their destination. It was late morning when they
parked in the garage of the hotel next to the N Tower in downtown Orlando and
checked in with the commander’s father. After a long nap and a trip to the
store, Byron dyed his hair and new mustache black. Albert’s hair became a
bleached yellow. He scowled at himself in the mirror when the job was done,
fingering his platinum hair with disdain.

Byron chuckled.
“Not a bad look.”

“Marie’s gonna hate
it.” Immediately after saying those words, Albert squeezed his eyes tightly
shut and turned sharply from his reflection. “Let’s go down to the street.”

They spent the day
studying the N building. After the destruction of the Hybrid-producing labs in
San Francisco and Detroit, security had tightened: regular patrols around the
perimeter, increased numbers of Aegis in the lobby and cloning floors, even the
roof had guards. Security protocols at the checkpoints in the garage and lobby were
far more rigorous than expected.

No doubt there were
many more enemies unseen. The white room they needed to reach was in the depths
of the building, almost a kilometer underground. The only way they could access
it was via the elevator shaft that went from the lobby all the way down to the
sublevels. Elevator 13. But in order to reach the sublevels, they needed an
Aegis or Thirteen’s eyes and finger.

“We continue our
special coverage of recent dramatic events in Los Angeles and Glasgow,” a
reporter said over the holo-vision in the hotel room. Byron was perched on the
windowsill while Albert was downstairs in the lobby taking more notes on the
timing of the security guards. “As part of that coverage, we’ve asked noted
poll analyst Samantha Gold to join us. Samantha, welcome to the show. Data is
coming from multiple polling agencies regarding public opinion on these events.
What is your take on the information we’re receiving? Is it accurate?”

“I think the data surprised some
and not others,” the analyst responded. “Yes, the American public is too smart
to believe the statements put forth by terrorists, but one always worries about
the fringe population, the conspiracy theorists. So to see numbers from
multiple agencies this one-sided … yes, it’s a little surprising, but in a good
way.”

“It certainly caught me off
guard,” said the show’s anchor, “to see that 95% of the population does not
sympathize with the resistance nor plans to support their march on D.C.”

“But it really shouldn’t,” the
analyst responded. “They’re terrorists, and the CAG is in the middle of a war.
Yes, solidarity is to be expected, but seeing numbers this high tells me that
people are being cautious and educating themselves.”

“Excellent points. Government
officials are calling on teachers, law enforcement, and employers to educate
their fellow citizens on the dangers of participating in this so-called coup.
More on this story—”

Byron clicked off the holo-vision
and returned to work. The news was a pack of lies. The resistance’s website continued
to draw well over a million hits a day. The commander’s father even took a
picture of himself in the CAG capitol in front of a holo-screen displaying the
current date, giving the world proof that he was still alive, but the news
refused to mention it or retract the earlier claim regarding his death.

That evening, the commander
reported their findings to Justice, Khani, and others, feeding them information
and discussing tactics.

“I spoke to Sammy an hour ago,”
Justice said. “He said his team is currently on schedule. One day in and we’re
looking good.”

Commander Byron and Albert took
shifts through the night, the commander going first, and Albert second. As
Albert slept, Commander Byron remembered the nights when, as a young father, he
checked on his baby boy and watched him sleep. He had marveled at the small
creation in the crib, tiny Albert’s eyes shut, fragile chest rising and
falling. A perfect little baby, something he had made. He and Emily had wanted
more children, at least two more, but life had other plans. A sigh escaped him
as he suddenly and deeply missed her, something that didn’t happen often
anymore, at least not with such severity.

The next day was more of the
same: searching for weaknesses to exploit in conjunction with the plans they
had already made. Albert set up cameras and uploaded the feed to Justice and
Dr. Nguyen. Ideas came back, but others rebutted them. They had only one more
day to decide on a final plan.

During the night shift, Commander
Byron sat in a chair watching, thinking, and sipping a mug of hot
chocolate—the Byron family drink of choice on a late night. Albert tossed
and turned in his bed, trying to sleep but failing. Earlier in the evening
Albert had spoken to Marie in the privacy of the bathroom, but the door wasn’t
soundproof enough to prevent Byron from overhearing their muted argument.

“You want some hot chocolate?” he
asked his son.

Albert threw the bed sheets aside
and got up. “Sure.”

“On the stove.” After pouring
himself a mug, Albert padded into the room and sat in the chair opposite Byron.
“So … how is my granddaughter doing?”

“Fussy. Marie thinks she might
have caught a virus. Doctor Rosmir is going to check on her tomorrow.”

Byron nodded. “Is that why you
are still up?”

Albert only sipped his hot
chocolate and stared out the window. Byron stared out it too. He decided to
change the subject.

“Maybe we should just say to heck
with our plan and go in guns blazing. What do you think about that?”

Albert gave a dry chortle. “We’d
be dead in two minutes.”

 
“Things are never as hopeless as they
seem when you can blast.”

“If they have Hybrids and
Thirteens, it
will
be the case.”

“I doubt they have Hybrids here.”

“Why?”

“Because they are not producing
them as quickly as they were, and any that can be spared are sent overseas to
secure strategic points already taken.”