Psion Omega (Psion series Book 5) (8 page)

Justice muttered to himself, his eyes sweeping side
to side as though searching for the answer. Then they widened when he too
realized the breadth of the idea proposed. “Whoa. That’s wild, Sammy. That’s …
a little too wild.”

Lorenzo Winters raised a hand. “Are you suggesting
we obliterate ten city towers? Kill tens of thousands of people?”

All eyes were on Samuel, and his expression changed
from one of confidence to someone swimming in shark-infested waters. “I’m
saying we need to consider the ramifications of doing something drastic to tip
the scales in our favor. All we’ve done so far is cling on, scrape by, and pray
for miracles. Our sabotages of the clone production centers haven’t had the
desired effect. They have too many of them. But after Detroit … the public is
waking up. Multiply that effect by nine, combine it with a similarly brutal
strike from the NWG targeting more urban areas, and the war may come to an end.
Isn’t that what we want? To win the war?”

“With what cost attached?” Lorenzo asked. The shock
on his face made Samuel wither. “Thousands of lives? Innocent people?”

“It’s the bigger picture I am thinking about,”
Samuel said.

“Tens of thousands of victims is a pretty big
picture,” the commander’s father countered.

“Casualties are a part of war,” Samuel told Thomas,
feeding him his own words. “‘
How can I
forget that stillness prevailing over the city of three hundred thousand?
’”

“Enough,” Thomas said firmly.

Lara stared at Samuel aghast, a hand over her mouth.

“I’m offering a suggestion, that’s all,” Sammy
finally explained. “It should at least be considered since it
will
work. Does anyone else have ideas?”

“I agree with Sammy.” The words came from Albert,
but a couple others nodded. “If we can end the war, we should.”

Commander Byron didn’t have time to react to his
son’s statement before Duncan Hudec spoke up.

“Who’s to say it won’t escalate things?” Duncan
said. “We bomb cities with our ordnance, they pull out a nuke. Pretty soon,
ain’t no one left standing.”

“Nuclear weapons have been disarmed and banned since
the Scourge,” Anna argued.

“Don’t be so naïve, miss,” Duncan shot back. “You
really think countries really got rid of all their best toys? Ask ol’ Byron
here if the NWG fully disarmed.”

All eyes turned on the commander.

“Escalation is a possibility. The NWG does have a
small number of nuclear warheads at its disposal, as does the CAG. Nowhere near
the numbers of, say, a hundred years ago, but enough. The course of action
Samuel has suggested could drive the CAG to consider their use.” Commander
Byron turned his attention to Samuel, “But in light of our conversation less
than an hour ago, I am stunned you would suggest such a thing.”

“It’s my job to suggest something if it has the
possibility to achieve our goal. Am I wrong in assuming that our goal is still
to win the war?”

“You people can’t really think the CAG will respond
with nukes, can you?” Albert asked. “You aren’t that stupid.”

Commander Byron winced at the way Albert slurred his
s
sounds.
Have you already started drinking today?

“Let’s just blow the world to hell!” Duncan Hudec
hollered from where he sat at the corner of the table with his brother.
“That’ll end all wars.”

Several people laughed uneasily. Thomas Byron and
the commander both put up a hand to ask everyone to quiet down.

“Grow up, Duncan,” Samuel responded. “I’m not
proposing mass destruction. Not even city-wide destruction. Nine buildings in
nine cities. Nine buildings that produce the clones we’re fighting and hold
Thirteen cells. The collateral damage will be high, yes, but not catastrophic.”

He may as well have called everyone in the room
morons
with his tone.

“The CAG has consolidated power by orchestrating
terrorist acts and blaming the NWG,” Lorenzo reminded the committee. “If we go
and commit more terrorist acts, we’re undermining our entire argument.”

“I suggest we turn our focus to more practical
solutions,” Commander Byron said, keeping his voice light and even, “and not on
something that could prove to be a
catastrophic
mistake.”

“Yes,” Samuel answered, “if anyone knows about
making catastrophic mistakes, it’d be you, sir.”

While no one else in the room knew what the comment
meant, Commander Byron stared at Samuel with a gaping jaw. For a moment, he
couldn’t even breathe. Even Samuel seemed shocked at what had come out of his
mouth.

“Excuse me,” Byron said as he stood slowly. “I
believe Samuel and I need to speak in private while this meeting continues
without us.”

Samuel glanced around the room. All eyes were on
him. Byron got up first and left the air traffic control tower’s main room.
Samuel followed at a much slower pace, his gaze on the floor. Byron waited
right outside, his arms folded and his face stone. His blue eyes searched the
younger man’s. He spoke in a whisper. “What is going on?”

“I—I—I—” Samuel rubbed his hair
with both hands and shook his head. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Sorry?” The commander raised his eyebrows as his
eyes continued to bore into Samuel’s. “No. I told you something private.
Extremely
private. Fifteen minutes later
you throw it in my face. Now you say ‘sorry?’”

“Sir, I don’t know what—”

“
Sammy
…”
The commander paused as he tried to find the words to express all his jumbled
up thoughts. “An hour ago I was trying to console you because I thought you
were burdened by what happened in Detroit. Now you want to blow up nine more
buildings. Help me understand what is going on because I am lost.”

“Well, so am I!” Samuel shouted. In the blink of an
eye he transformed from someone sorrowful to enraged. “I don’t know what’s what
anymore! Now that I’ve seen how we can win, it doesn’t make a difference to me
if one person or a million people die, so long as we win.”

“Why? Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t know!”

The commander had his suspicions, knew what he had
to do, but didn’t like it. He grabbed Samuel hard on the shoulders and shook
him. “Do not lie to me! You know something. What is going on?”

Then he saw what he was looking for in Samuel’s
eyes.
Rage
. Samuel wanted to kill
him, kill everyone. He saw a need to spill blood and revel in it. When their
eyes locked, Byron took a step back, afraid of what he saw.

“When—when did you let it out? Why?”

The fury that a moment ago had emanated from
Samuel’s very being now dissipated like a popped balloon. The younger Psion’s
frame slackened and bent. He regarded the commander now with an expression of
deep remorse that seemed to reach his bones. He didn’t answer, didn’t speak.
Commander Byron put a hand on his shoulder.

“I understand now, but you need to talk to me. When
did—”

“When do you think?
Why do you think?
I didn’t have a choice.”

Commander Byron had seen the footage of Samuel
fighting the Thirteens in the basement of the Joswang Tower in Detroit, but he
hadn’t believed Samuel had used the Anomaly Thirteen. Surely Samuel had shown
restraint and good judgment. His obvious prowess and speed in battle, that had
all been the rush of adrenaline and Samuel’s other natural gifts. That was what
he had told himself.

I was wrong.

“There is always a choice, Samuel,” Byron finally
said.

“It helped me. I couldn’t have gotten Brickert out
of there without it.”

“You do not know that.”

“I
do
know!” Samuel clenched his fists tightly that his knuckles whitened. “I know
what I’m capable of.”

“I told you to keep your emotions in check. You
cannot use the anomaly. Not even a step down that path!”

“It’s too late. Okay? And I’m not sorry because I
saved my best friend’s life.”

“There is no good excuse. There is not one excuse
good enough for that. How many times do I have to tell you that you are—”

“The most important asset in the war?”

“Yes! You are too valuable to lose.”

“I’m fully aware that Command licks their chops at
the prospect of having me for a lifetime of service … provided we win this war,
of course.” His voice dripped sarcasm.

“Valuable to me is what I meant.” Byron’s grip on
Sammy’s shoulder tightened. “As far as I am concerned, you are my son. Have I
not told you that?”

“More than once, sir,” he whispered.

Byron let go of Samuel’s shoulder and grasped him
behind the neck. Before Byron knew it, Samuel had wrapped his arms around him.

“I’m sorry, sir. But I couldn’t just let him die. I
had to do everything I could.”

“I know, but the darkest deeds are often done by
desperate people who mean well. Promise me. Never again.”

“I can’t.”

Byron released Samuel so he could look into his
eyes. “You have to. I want your word. You will never again use the anomaly.”

“I can’t give you my word, sir. I can’t promise I’ll
never do it again.”

“Samuel …
Sammy
…”

“No. Because I don’t know what the future holds or
if someday I’ll have to break that oath.”

“Nothing is worth—”

“Some things are. Brickert’s life. Jeffie’s life.
Yours. I refuse to accept someone’s death when I can do more to save him.”

“Sammy—”

“I’m done talking about this, sir. Tell the
committee I’m not feeling well, and I withdraw the idea I submitted to them.
And—and give them my apologies.” Then Samuel left before the commander
could respond.

* * * * *

Back at his house, Sammy threw himself on his bed.
His room carried the faint smell of sweat and old laundry. Dirty clothes
littered the floor. Across the hall, in Brickert’s room, things were tidy,
almost pristine. Nothing in there had been touched for days. But in Sammy’s
world everything was a mess.

And my fault
.

A noise came from the kitchen, distracting him from
his misery.

“Who is it?” he called out.

“Hiya stranger,” came Jeffie’s voice.

Sammy dropped his head back to his pillow. “What do
you want?”

“To see my boyfriend.” She appeared at the door to
his bedroom, smiling like it was Christmas morning.

Sammy groaned in response. He knew it was rude, but
didn’t care at the moment. Jeffie frowned and sat by him on the bed. Her
fingers combed through his hair; he closed his eyes and savored the sensation.
In a world as screwed up as his, it was nice to have one thing to provide a
little comfort.

“Can we spend some time together this weekend,
Sammy?” Jeffie asked. “Just us? Doing something fun?”

“I don’t know,” Sammy said. “I’m really busy.”

“Yeah, you’ve been busy since Detroit.”

The idea of being alone with Jeffie, having to talk
about feelings and pretending to be happy so she could be happy, did not appeal
to him. A big pile of fake happiness between them. But if he wasn’t with
Jeffie, he’d be by himself. And he didn’t want that either. Neither did he want
to be around other people. Truthfully, the only person he wanted to talk to was
Brickert. He wanted to know his friend would be all right. Wanted to tell him
sorry for everything, that punching him had been a mistake, and that he’d never
regretted anything so much in his entire life.

“Sammy? Are you even in the room with me?”

“What kind of question is that?” Sammy asked.

“The question that’s been on my mind for weeks.
You’re AWOL. I call. You don’t answer. I send you messages. You don’t respond.”
She snatched his com from him and pulled up his screen. “You’re not even
opening them!”

Sammy grabbed it back from her, his face red and
hot.

Jeffie seemed to swallow her anger as she pressed
on. “Even when we’re together, you’re somewhere else. Like now. You’ve been
distant ever since Detroit, Sammy. Distant and different.”

“I’m not—what does—I don’t have time for
this, Jeffie.”

Jeffie gestured to his bed. “Sorry, didn’t realize
you were so busy laying there and all. Should I leave so you can get back to that?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Sammy turned over onto
his side so all she could see was his back.

“Please talk to me,” Jeffie pleaded. “You’re a
fighter. You always have been. Look at all you’ve accomplished—”

Sammy laughed harshly. “No thanks.”

Jeffie grabbed him and twisted him around. “Stop.
This isn’t healthy. Whatever it is that’s causing this, we can talk about it.
We can get through it.”

Sammy shook his head. “You don’t even know what’s
going on. Why do you think you can fix my problems?”