Psion Alpha (19 page)

She
shook her head. “I’ve got a meeting with Professor Shazad about some math
questions.”

“Reschedule
it.”

“I
can’t. I had to wait two weeks to get this appointment.”

“Fine.
Byron? Otto? Xian?”

“Sure,”
Byron said. “My poli-sci can wait until tomorrow.”

“Not
for me,” Otto said. “I gotta get the top mark on that test.”

“I
haven’t failed a poli-sci test yet,” Xian chirped. “I’m down for anything that’s
not studying.”

Otto
rolled his eyes.

After
dinner, the three friends went down to the dojo. Dozens of students were
already inside. A small group of second years sparred with Nicoletta
Clardonsky, attacking her even as she knocked them on their butts. Byron stood
still, mesmerized by how fluidly she moved and fought until Trapper reminded
him to change into dojo gear.

Clardonsky
required each student to wear socks, loose pants, and a tunic in the dojo.
Gloves and headgear were optional. For sparring, however, Byron always wore
both. He did not like getting his head battered or his knuckles bruised.
Trapper and Xian donned similar gear. After warming up on punching bags, the
sparring began.

Nicoletta
Clardonsky’s favorite exercise was what she called “group therapy.” It involved
one person standing in the middle of eight to ten people. Depending on
Clardonsky’s level of sadism on that particular day, two or more people from
the circle beat on the individual in the middle. After landing six or more
hits, those assailants retreated, giving way to new attackers. This abuse
lasted for about five minutes, then a new person took the middle spot and tried
to fend off the attackers.

Xian,
Trapper, and Byron simulated this exercise with only the three of them, each
taking a turn being in the middle. Trapper, being the best fighter of the
group, took the role of whipping boy first. Byron and Xian, evenly matched in
skill, managed to land plenty of blows on target, though Trapper blocked
several, too. After fifteen minutes, he tapped out. Byron went next. As usual,
he focused on his dodging.

Xian
aimed a punch to Byron’s head. Byron jerked his body right, only to be
immediately struck by Trapper with three rapid jabs to the back and shoulders.
Byron spun and countered, but whiffed air. Xian took advantage of the
distraction, clocking Byron in the back of the head. It was hard enough that
Byron saw stars for a moment, giving Trapper an opportunity to strike Byron a
fourth time, knocking him down.

“Reset!”
Byron called out from his backside.

Xian
and Trapper instantly ended the attacks.

“Dang,
I suck!” Byron shouted. “I feel like a rag doll.”

“You’re
doing fine,” Trapper said as he helped him up.

Byron
stared across the room at Clardonsky. She rarely dodged, even with four
students attacking her. She used her arms and elbows to block with almost
prescient precision. In a far corner of the large dojo, Diego and Omar battled
one another. Omar leveled hit after hit at Diego, but Diego blocked as
patiently as Clardonsky. Omar couldn’t strike his opponent. There was no doubt
that Omar was bigger and stronger than Diego, but it didn’t seem to matter.
Diego used that strength against him, deflecting it away from his center,
opening up opportunities to strike if he chose. Byron didn’t like blocking
because he looked like a flailing octopus whenever he tried to do it.

“Block,”
Byron whispered to himself.
No one cares how I look. No dodging.
“Block,
block, block.”

“What’s
that?” Xian asked.

“Nothing.
Let’s do it again.”

They
reset their positions, Byron stood between them. Trapper struck first this
time, but Byron redirected the blow with his forearm, following it with a sharp
jab to Trapper’s ribs. He spun and jerked his head to the side, narrowly
avoiding Xian’s punch to the skull. A hit to the solar plexus from Byron sent
Xian down just as Trapper hit Byron in the ribs. Byron absorbed the blow, spun,
caught Trapper’s left arm in a follow-up punch, and countered with a cross to
Trapper’s temple. Xian’s foot shot out and pulled Byron’s leg out from under
him. Before hitting the mat, Byron used his weight to fall into Trapper, pulling
him down, too.

“Nice,
Byron,” Trapper exclaimed. “That was your best one yet.”

“You’re
heavy, bros,” Xian grunted. “Get off me!”

The
sparring continued. Byron focused more and more on blocking and redirecting the
inertia of his opponent, both when he attacked and defended. The dojo was nearly
empty when he decided to call it a night. Xian and Trapper tried to talk him
into staying, but he wanted to brush up on his mathematics. His performance
tonight left him more satisfied than any workout he’d had in recent weeks. He
walked past Omar and Diego, both of whom ignored him, as he went into the
locker room to shower and change.

After
showering, he went into a private stall and dressed. He placed his fingers on
the cool metal of the door and gently pushed the energy from them. The locker
shut, and Byron grinned. He opened it again and repeated the action. Next, his
focus turned to his bare feet. Concentrating intently on his soles, he released
a small amount of energy from them. This technique allowed him to hover a few
centimeters above the ground. Gradually he willed his feet to increase the
energy flowing from them. As he did so, the level of his hover grew above the
tile until he was almost a meter high. The door to the locker room opened, and
Byron dropped back to the floor.

Remembering
his orders from Wu not to use his blasts, Byron put his shoes on and stepped
out of the stall. Diego was washing his face at the sink. His eyes followed
Byron in the mirror. “I think you finally learned how to block a punch.
Congratulations.”

“Uh,
yeah … you were watching me?”

“I’m
going to miss your duck and weave dance, though,” Diego added with a smile.
Then he juked and bobbed his head comically enough to make Byron laugh out
loud.

“Did
I really look like that?”

“Pretty
close.”

The
jovial moment shared with Diego unsettled Byron. He wanted to think of Diego as
a guy he hated, a guy with nothing good or redeeming about him. But here, away
from Omar, he wasn’t such a bad person. Or so it seemed. He gave a farewell nod
to Diego and left the room. Xian and Trapper were still battling each other,
while across the dojo Omar mercilessly pulverized another punching bag with his
hands and feet. Otherwise, the dojo was empty. Byron headed to his dorm and spent
another hour or two reading his books until he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Before
he fell asleep, he briefly wondered why Trapper hadn’t returned yet, but put
the thought out of his mind.

When
his alarm went off the next morning, Trapper wasn’t in his bed. A quick
inspection of the sheets told him that Trapper hadn’t slept there all night.

“Crap.”

Byron
threw on clothes and ran to the dojo. By the time he arrived, his heart
thundered in his chest, both from the long sprint and from fear of what he
might find.
I left them in the room with Omar … what was I thinking?
He
imagined Omar savagely beating on Xian and Trapper as mercilessly as he had pounded
the bags. Even two against one were unfair odds in Omar’s favor.

He
banged through the doors of the dojo. Pitch dark and emptiness greeted him. A
few steps across the mat activated the motion sensors of the lights, which blinked
on, dim and yellow, as the bulbs warmed. The illumination allowed him to see
two lumps—large and human-sized—on the ground at the far end of the room. He
ran to them, reaching Trapper first.

The
right side of Trapper’s face sported large, dark bruises. In the middle of these,
his skin had split, and a decent amount of blood covered the right side of his
face. His right eye was swollen shut, but he was breathing steadily. Byron went
over to Xian. When he saw his other friend, he immediately ran to the emergency
phone on the wall and called for medical services. Once they took his call, he
ran back to Xian. Whereas Trapper had some nasty bruises, Xian’s entire face
was swollen and covered in blood. It looked as though his nose, cheekbone, and
some of his teeth were broken. Byron kept his fingers for a long time on Xian’s
neck, but could hardly find a pulse.

CHAPTER
TEN
– Transfer

Monday, November 11, 2086

“
TEN
minutes left,” Thomas said over the com. “You’re behind schedule, Sammy.”

Sammy
couldn’t answer Thomas because his mouth was filled with a breathing apparatus
while he swam underwater. Holding his hand was Nikotai Wang, who also held
hands with Jeffie. Together, the three of them propelled themselves through the
water at high speeds using blasts or kicks, respective of their anomalies. Specially-designed
thermal underwater suits covered their bodies and made them invisible to
infrared detection for roughly one hour. This was their sixth straight day in the
lake attempting the swim of fifty-five kilometers in under an hour. It
simulated their swim at Lake Coari in the heart of the Amazon rainforest.

Sammy
squeezed Nikotai’s hand twice, the signal to push harder. Nikotai was supposed
to squeeze Jeffie’s hand twice to communicate Sammy’s message. The swim exhausted
him. And doing it every day in conjunction with jungle survival training,
twenty kilometer walks wearing heavy survival packs, and all the other
preparations made it impossible for his legs to recuperate. Although he tried
to exercise rigorously every day, Sammy’s body was not in the same kind of
shape it had been in three months ago at Psion Beta headquarters. He fired
blast after blast from his feet, propelling himself, Nikotai, and Jeffie
through the murky, frigid water of the lake. It had taken them a while to get
used to traveling as a group at such high speeds.

“Five
minutes,” Thomas announced, “if you can’t give more effort, you’re never gonna
make it in time!”

Despite
passing on the message via hand signals, Sammy didn’t think his team could go
much faster than their current speed.
How did we get so far behind?
He
wore diving goggles over his special wetsuit. Through the goggles, he saw
schools of small fish and underwater plants darting and waving about. He looked
to his right and saw Nikotai and Jeffie staring straight ahead. Then, not far
away, he saw the inflated red balloon tied to a stone via a string. The marker
for the finish point. They crossed the distance in a matter of seconds, cut the
string, and surfaced.

“You
liar!” Sammy said as soon as his breathing apparatus popped out of his mouth.
“Five minutes my eye.”

Thomas
stood on the shore wrapped in a heavy coat, a hat, and a scarf. On his face, he
wore a big smile as he tapped on his stopwatch. Lara leaned on him, similarly
dressed. “I made sure you gave it your best. You don’t have many more
run-throughs before you leave.”

Sammy,
Nikotai, and Jeffie swam to the shore where blankets and energy replenishers awaited
them. Sammy accepted his gratefully. “What was the final time?”

“Fifty
minutes. Ten to spare before the gel can no longer absorb your body heat. I
wish we had the newer suits. They can last for hours with the new gels.”

“We’re
lucky to have these. Don’t sweat it.”

Thomas
nodded. “Oh, by the way, during your swim someone came looking for you.” He
pointed over his shoulder at Anna. She rested against the door of her car, arms
crossed and watching. Sammy could tell by the stern look on her face that she
wanted to talk … and soon.

“Excuse
me,” Sammy said. “It appears I’m being summoned.”

He
climbed the banks of the lake and got into the car with Anna.

“I
have a problem,” she began in her usual no-nonsense tone.

“I
figured that when I saw your face.”

Anna
scowled at him. “Marie is pregnant.” She pronounced
pregnant
like it was
a curse word. “She found out this morning.”

“That’s
great! The first third-generation Psion could—” Sammy stopped being excited
with another look from his former honcho. “I mean, that is … just … terrible.
Awful
.
What did you say to her?”

“Don’t
you know they have ways to prevent these things?”

“Yeah.
Why?”

“No,
that’s what I told her. She didn’t take it well. Neither did Al.”

Sammy
bit back a sarcastic response. “What now? Who’s next on the list?”

“Only
Betas. Miguel and Rosa Covas, your friend, Natalia, and a couple others who
look old enough to be my children.”

“Wasn’t
Natalia listed as your top backup?” Sammy asked.

“Yeah.
She’s my first choice. Although, I could take Rosa. There’s just something
about Natalia I really like. Maybe she reminds me of me. What do you think?”

“She’s
definitely the best out of the three, but.… ” Sammy paused as he thought more
about it. “Yeah, that should be fine.”

“But
what?”

“She
and Brickert were dating up until the last few weeks. Kind of a bad break-up. They
still aren’t on very good terms.”

“Define
‘not on very good terms.’”

“As
in, they don’t speak to each other.”

Anna
smacked her steering wheel and cursed. “Are you kidding me? I’m trying to put
together a mission that could potentially end a war, and I have to deal with
teenage drama! How do you Betas even function? Were you guys in therapy every
other day? Son of a—”

“I’m
pretty sure you used to be a Beta, too.”

“You
know them, Berhane. So you get them in a room together and fix this. Tell her
if she wants to go, she needs to bury the hatchet. Otherwise it’s Rosa and
Miguel.”

“Me?
You’re their honcho. I’m—”

“Their
friend. I don’t want this to be an issue when we’re in Colorado Springs. If
they can’t put their personal lives aside, they’re
both
staying home.”

Sammy
took a deep breath. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The
next day Sammy met with Brickert and Natalia privately in the leadership
council room of the air tower. He wanted to get them away from everyone else,
where there would be no distractions. It felt weird, though, setting up a
formal meeting between friends where he was “in charge.” He wondered if this was
what being in a leadership position was like. If so, it felt icky.

They
sat around one end of the long table with Sammy in the middle. Natalia kept
trying to catch Brickert’s gaze, but he looked everywhere, except at her.

“I
don’t want to waste a lot of time here,” Sammy began. “You’re both my friends,
and I’m going to speak plainly. I hope you guys don’t get mad at me for that.
Marie is unable to go to Colorado Springs. Natalia, you’ve been chosen to
replace her.”

Natalia
beamed and reached for Brickert’s hand, but he withdrew it. “That’s great! My
training with her team has been going really well. Tell her I’m ready.”

Sammy
watched Brickert’s face. Currently it showed something between displeasure and
rage. It was hard to tell because his hand covered part of his face. “Anna has
reservations about the two of you being on a mission together.”

“Why?”
Natalia asked. “Because we broke up a month ago?”

Sammy
nodded.

“That’s
ancient history! We’re totally fine now. Right, Brickert?”

Brickert
nodded behind his hand.

“When
was the last time you two spoke to each other?”

“We’re
speaking right now,” Natalia said.

“No,
you’re
speaking. Brickert’s pretending he’s somewhere else.”

“I’m
fine,” Brickert said suddenly, dropping his hand. “I’m here.”

Sammy
gave his friend a disbelieving look.

Brickert
sighed. “I don’t see how our personal problems have much to do with helping out
in the war effort. I can work with her.”

“You
can at least say my name,
Dickert
.”

Tiny
spots appeared on Brickert’s cheeks. “I can work with
Natalia
. It won’t
get in the way of my performance. I’m committed to the team.” He put his hands
back over his head. “Just make sure there’s no top secret information that we
need to know or it’s bound to get out.”

Oh
boy
,
Sammy thought, bracing himself.

“How
dare you?” Natalia slapped the table punctuating the second word of her
sentence. The high pitch in her voice told Sammy that Brickert’s words had hit
their mark.

Sammy
raised his hands. “Let’s all—”

“I
have apologized to you so many times,” she continued. “I have begged you to
forgive me. I promised you I would never—”

“You
promised me that three times,” Brickert cut in. The spots on his cheeks were
like bright red stickers now. “You could promise until your face turns purple,
but I’d never believe you because you break your promises. You have a serious
problem with keeping any kind of information secret. It’s like every time you
find out something about someone else, you have a bright shiny toy and can’t
wait to show it off! You have no sense of privacy.”

“I
do, Brickert.” Her voice broke as she spoke. “I tried to tell you that. And I’m
working on my problem like I said I would. If you had sat down and talked to me
when—”

“No!
Telling Kawai about Sammy’s anomaly was the last straw. Even now you won’t
admit that you had no right to tell Kawai, will you?”

Natalia
cupped her nose with her hand and sniffed as her eyes brimmed with tears. “I
will! I do! I know it was wrong. I’ve learned my lesson. Give me another
chance.”

Brickert
put his hands up in the air and shook his head. “I can’t. I don’t want to
discuss it.” He got up and headed for the door, the spots on his cheeks
brighter than ever. “Look, Sammy, I can work with her, I tell you. I can do
whatever I need to, but I won’t sit here and have relationship therapy like
this.”

Sammy
looked at Natalia. She’d had a crush on Brickert for almost two years. Today
she looked utterly miserable. Sammy had been furious at her until she pulled him
aside and sincerely apologized for her actions. Now watching Brickert lay into Natalia
with all of his pent-up rage, Sammy felt bad for her. After all, Sammy had been
able to forgive her. Why couldn’t Brickert? With nothing but a look, Sammy told
his friend to lay off.

“You
feel okay working alongside Brickert?” Sammy asked Natalia.

She
nodded quickly and ran a finger under her eyes to wipe them.

“Even
if he stays mad at you or makes snide remarks?”

“Yes.”

With
their meeting over, the three Psions headed to the car. Sammy thought back to
the days when things were simpler. The drive to Glasgow from Saint Marie was quiet.
Brickert sat in the back seat with his arms folded, staring at the floor.
Natalia sniffled while she leaned her head against the glass of the front
passenger window. Sammy feared that saying anything more, even in an attempt to
soothe hurt feelings, would only make Brickert angrier.

When
he parked the car in the underground lot, Brickert and Natalia immediately got
out and went their separate ways. Sammy yelled after his roommate, “Hey, I
wanted to talk!”

“Not
now,” Brickert answered. “I’m going to the gym.”

Sammy
swore at both of them under his breath as he strode through the tunnels back to
his home. Once there, he got on the phone and called Anna.

“What’s
up?” she asked. “Everything okay?”

“Oh
yeah,” Sammy answered. “Just—just perfect.”

Another
week of preparation passed. Each day Sammy grew more confident in his team’s
ability to do the job. He, Jeffie, and Nikotai had developed a chemistry during
their exercises that Sammy hadn’t shared with any of his previous teams.
Fortunately, as far as Brickert and Natalia were concerned, Sammy received no
complaints from Anna, so he could only assume the two were getting along.

On
Monday the 18
^th
, two days before their scheduled departure, Sammy
had an appointment set with Dr. Rosmir for his memory implantation. Not really
knowing what to expect, he arrived at the infirmary several minutes early,
slightly anxious about the procedure. He looked inside the window and saw the
doctor walking slowly through the office. Changing his angle gave Sammy a clear
view of Commander Byron leaning on a walker, shuffling his feet along the
floor, with Dr. Rosmir behind, ready to assist. Byron’s face was red and sweaty,
his lips, eyes, and cheeks all scrunched up tightly in pain. Each step seemed
to tax the commander to his core. Sammy felt a gnawing in his gut at seeing his
mentor so feeble.