Psion Alpha (21 page)

“I
was waiting to go to Capitol Island. Byron had recruited me a month earlier, I
think. Not long after Jeffie and Kawai, but before you and … her. I shared a
bedroom with my parents. Did I ever tell you that?”

“No,
I think I would have remembered.” Sammy tried to look at his friend’s face, but
all he saw were shadows and tiny squares of light reflecting from Brickert’s
eyes.

“Our
house was … tiny. My sisters shared two bedrooms. And that only left the
remaining one—my parents’. I had a little cot in the corner where I slept. We
all shared one bathroom. I used to ask my mom why she had so many kids. She
always shrugged and said, ‘It felt right.’

“I
hated sharing a room with them. I never brought friends over because I didn’t
have a room. I sometimes prayed that they’d have one more kid—a boy—so maybe
I’d get a bedroom and my sisters would all have to share. When I realized my
parents were never going to have more children after Berry, I prayed that I’d
somehow be able to move out. Then Byron came along and as soon as he finished
his speech, I asked, ‘Will I get my own room?’”

Sammy
chortled at the thought.

“He
said I wouldn’t, but I’d have a roommate. Probably a boy close to my age. All I
heard was that I would be getting a brother. I guess both of my prayers were
answered.”

Sammy
put his arm around Brickert’s shoulders. “I’ll miss you, too.” They hugged each
other for a moment.

“I
wish I was going with you, brother,” Brickert muttered, “but this feels right.
Anna made the right call. So did you. You and Jeffie together makes me worry
less. Is that crazy?”

They
climbed the steps from the tunnel up into their home.

“No,”
Sammy answered, “that’s why I chose her. I couldn’t see it any other way.”

“I
wish—I wish I felt the same way about Natalia. Instead it worries me that being
around her will cause more problems. I wanted for us what you and Jeffie have.
Something special.”

Sammy
shrugged, smiling, as they got ready for bed. “Who knows what she and I have at
this point. It’s pretty new, and we’re only fifteen.”

“Sixteen,
remember?” Brickert pointed out.

“Right,
I’m sixteen. She’s fifteen. Anything can happen.”

Brickert
turned out the lights as they climbed into separate beds. “Yeah, but I have a
feeling about you two. See you in the morning.”

Sammy
lay in bed and waited for Brickert to fall asleep. In his head, two voices
spoke to him. One was Commander Byron’s, the other, Dr. Rosmir’s.

You
need the memories, Sammy.

No,
it’s too dangerous.

Dr.
Rosmir is overreacting. He’s scared. It’ll be his first mission.

You’re
responsible for the mission, Sammy. For people’s lives. You can’t blank—

Sammy
got out of bed and stole across the room. Brickert stirred and muttered.
“Whereyagoin’?”

“To
check my pack one more time,” Sammy said. “Be right back.”

The
infirmary was empty, no one currently receiving care overnight. The data cube
sat in the cabinet right next to the machine. Sammy stared at it for a long
time, running his fingers along the angles and corners. What was inside that
Byron felt so impressed to share?

“I
have to know,” he whispered.

No,
it’s too dangerous.

Sammy
shook his head at Rosmir’s voice. “I’m stronger than you think, Doc.”

It
only took five minutes to set everything up. As Rosmir had said, it wasn’t
difficult. The data cube rested on a small tray with cables connecting it to a
computer. More wires trailed out from the computer, which Sammy stuck to his
own head. Each wire brought with it a slight jolt. Just before pressing the
button to start the transfer, he paused.
I’ll be fine.
Then he pushed
it.

Ten
seconds passed and nothing happened. He looked at the computer screen and saw
that the transfer was already complete.

“What?”

He
hit the button again, but the program wouldn’t start.

TRANSFER
COMPLETE

A
third try yielded the same result. Disappointed, Sammy unplugged the machine
and pulled the cords off his head. Carefully, he placed it all back where he’d
found it, closed the cabinet, and left the infirmary. He returned to his house
and climbed in bed, pulling sheets all the way up to his nose. That night, he
dreamed of the trees in the rainforest turning into Thirteens and attacking him
and his party from all angles, ripping them apart, and consuming the pieces.

The
next day was organized madness. Thomas and Lara had asked that no uninvited
people be at the hangars. No one listened. Hundreds gathered to say their
goodbyes. After breakfast, Brickert and Sammy headed over there as well. Their
goodbye was brief, having already said what they needed to say the previous
night.

As
Sammy said farewell to others, he watched the Byrons from afar. Thomas and Lara
were both tearful as they hugged and kissed Al. Marie broke into tears
immediately, and for a minute Sammy didn’t think she was going to let go of her
husband, who kept putting his hand on her stomach to reassure her that he’d see
her again. His face was uncharacteristically stoic, his mannerisms almost cold
toward his wife. Commander Byron sat in a wheelchair, pushed by his mother and
father. He wore a deep frown and seemed to have aged several years in the last
weeks. After saying goodbye to his son, the commander caught Sammy’s eye and
waved to him.

Al
and Marie both hugged Sammy. Al even laughed when Sammy patted him on the back,
something Al always did to Sammy. “Take good care of yourself,” he told Sammy.

“You,
too, Papa,” Sammy responded, gesturing to Marie’s stomach. Al’s laughter ended
abruptly and he turned to grab his pack. Thomas and Lara immediately stepped in
and said their goodbyes.

“We’re
so proud of you!” Lara said.

Thomas
echoed her sentiments. After more hugs, Sammy was left with Commander Byron. He
seemed to want nothing more than to get out of his wheelchair and board one of
the cruisers. “I should be going with you, Samuel.” Bitterness filled his
words.

“You’ve
done enough. You found us and taught us everything we know.”

“Thank
you, Samuel. God be with you.”

Sammy
flinched at his words. “Thank you, sir,” Sammy said as they shook hands.

He
gave hugs to the rest of the Byron clan before Anna got his attention.

“Don’t
do anything stupid, Berhane. Got it?”

Sammy
laughed. “I’ll try my best.”

“You’re
going to be the honcho everyone knew you’d be. The only surprise is that it’s
sooner than we guessed. Make me proud.”

“Will
do. Stay alive.”

Anna
grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “I intend to.”

Two
cruisers waited for Sammy’s team, and several cars for Anna’s. After final
goodbyes, each team got into their vehicles. Lots of people waved as the
engines of the cruiser roared to life. Sammy sat by Jeffie and Kawai. In the
co-pilot’s chair, Maad Rosmir read his holo-tablet. The Elite flying the
cruiser adjusted the controls on the console panel, talking via his com with
the Elite flying the team’s second cruiser.

Minutes
later, the cruiser soared through the air, the second stealth cruiser only a
few hundred meters behind. Sammy couldn’t imagine what a monumental task faced
them, trekking through the Amazon jungle with nothing more advanced than a
couple of radios powered by hand-crank generators to communicate with the
outside world. He, Jeffie, and Kawai wore their wilderness clothes. The
fabric’s waterproofing, according to their outfitters, would repel the wetness
of the rainfall, while keeping them cool in the stifling heat and humidity.

The
journey lasted about twelve hours because the stealth cruisers had to stay
under certain speeds to maintain optimal camouflaging during the day. Sammy,
Jeffie, Kawai, and Li played card games to amuse themselves. The lands below
them gradually changed from mountains to deserts to forests, and from forests
to jungle. While the Scourge of 2036 had affected only a small percentage of
the indigenous peoples of the Amazon, it helped to end the deforestation
practices that had threatened the rainforest for decades. Over the fifty years
since the Scourge, the jungle’s borders had rapidly enlarged.

The
cruisers landed in a small clearing in Rio Pure National Forest, Equatorial
Territory. The moment they touched down, the team members hurried to unload the
packs. Each member of the team bore one. They had trained carrying the weight
for the last few weeks, walking ten to fifteen kilometers a day with packs
stuffed full of rocks.

Unloading
lasted ten minutes. Once Sammy informed the Elite that the cargo spaces were
clear, the cruisers took off and vanished into the horizon. Sammy shouldered
his pack, groaning under its weight.

“We’ll
wish they were heavier soon enough,” Aaron Lewis said. “Mark my words.”

Aaron
served as the navigator of the group, his orienteering skills second to none.
He led the way into the vast green wall that surrounded them on all sides. The
thick scents of wet moss and rich, fresh soil filled the air. “Let’s march!” he
called out.

Everyone
carried a machete sheathed at their side, clipped to their belts. Jeffie sidled
up next to Sammy, her hip bumping into his.

“Haven’t
you always wanted to go camping with me?” she asked. Her big, bright smile
almost seemed unnatural.

“Yep,
in the middle of the Amazon. Should be … epic.”

Ahead,
Aaron swiped his machete into the wall of vines and tree limbs, cutting away a
swath of tree life and leaving a hole like a gaping maw. Then he disappeared
into the sea of green and brown. A line of people followed, each being
swallowed up by the mighty beast, one by one. Sammy watched them curiously,
wondering who would survive the trek and who, like in his dream, would be
consumed.

CHAPTER
ELEVEN
- Combat

August 2055

AT
lunch
on the day after Trapper and Xian’s attack in the dojo, Byron, Emerald, and
Otto sat discussing the incident. All three were tired after spending the previous
day and most of the evening outside the infirmary waiting for word regarding their
friends’ conditions. It hadn’t been until late in the evening when a nurse
finally emerged from the infirmary to inform Byron and his friends that while
Trapper was stable and expecting a release the next day, Xian hadn’t regained
consciousness.

“I
can’t believe they haven’t already kicked him out!” Emerald complained. “How
can he be a student here after what he did?” She gestured wildly at the table
where Omar and Diego normally ate. Their absence was noted by their friends,
who sat huddled in deep discussion. “Next time I see him, he’s going to get it.
Don’t even think about stopping me.”

“We
don’t know anything for certain,” Otto reminded her. “No point in getting our
butts kicked based on a hunch.”

“More
than a hunch, Otto,” Byron said. “When I left, he was the only one in the room
besides Xian and Trap.”

“You
said Diego was there,” Otto said.

Byron
shrugged. “He was in the bathroom getting ready to leave. Clardonsky was
probably in her office. Should we suspect her, too? It was
Omar
!”

“Everything
he’s done, Otto, think about it,” Emerald said. “All his fight-picking. I bet
he’s been waiting for this opportunity for a while.”

“I
am so dumb,” Byron said, pushing his tray away. “Even after I vowed to win the
combat skull, I focused too much on academics and aviation. If it ever comes
down to me and an enemy with a knife or a gun, physics and math are not going
to save me. I have to spend more time in the dojo.”

Their
conversation was interrupted when an older Elite—one of the post-graduate
students—knocked on the table. “Which of you is Walter Byron?” he growled.

It
was a common practice of post-graduates to act tougher than everyone else
because they’d been accepted into one of the prestigious programs at the ETC.
Post-graduate Elites often wound up with excellent jobs out in the field.

“Me.”
Byron stood. “What do you want?”

“The
commander wants you for questioning. ASAP.”

Emerald
raised an eyebrow at Byron while Otto only gestured helplessly. “See you guys
in class. Take notes for me.” He followed the older Elite through the halls in
silence until they came to Wu’s office.

“In
there,” the older student said.

“I
know where his office is,” Byron told him.

The
post-grad Elite shot Byron a dirty look and walked away, muttering obscenities
under his breath about obnoxious first years.

At
the sight of Wu’s office, Byron’s mouth went dry.
Does the commander suspect
me? Am I being brought in for questioning?
He paused to get a drink at the
fountain located to the side of the door to the administration offices. He took
his time, prolonging the moment when he had to go inside. While he drank, the
office door opened, nearly hitting Byron from behind. Diego and Omar walked out,
oblivious to Byron’s presence.

“How’d
it go?” Diego asked. He did not sound happy with Omar.

“I’m
not sure they believed me,” Omar answered.

“Did
you say what I told you to say?”

“Word
for word.”

“Then
stop worrying. And get that look off your face. I can’t have you going around
looking guilty.”

Soon,
they turned a corner, out of sight and earshot. Byron hands shook as he entered
the office. Another post-graduate Elite sat behind a desk, answering phones and
handling the work of an administrative assistant. Since hourly employees were
all but impossible to find in Siberia, the post-grads filled these positions.

“Your
name,” he stated as a command rather than a question.

“Byron.
Walter Byron. They told me Commander Wu wants to see me.”

The
Elite jerked his head toward the door with the plaque that read:
COMMANDER
WU
.
Byron knocked three times.

“Come
in.”

Byron
stepped into a large and spacious office bare of almost any decoration. A few
chairs lined the nearest wall, one of them pulled close to Wu’s desk. Empty
bookshelves flanked the commander on both sides. Behind the desk, large and
framed, hung the NWG flag. Nothing but essential work items sat on the desktop.
The commander’s aged face seemed more serious than usual as he peered up over
his computer monitor to survey Byron.

“Hello,
sir. You wanted to see me?”

Commander
Wu pointed to the chair opposite his desk. “Sit.”

Byron
hurried to obey.

“You
are well?” The question rang hollow to Byron as Wu asked it. Not because Wu
didn’t care about the answer, but because they both knew it wasn’t the point of
their meeting.

“Yes,
sir.”

Wu
glanced at the monitor. “Your performance here so far has been impressive.
Better than what I expected.”

“Thank—”

“You
found your friends in dojo yesterday morning.”

“Yes,
sir.”

“And
you told medics who arrived on scene you suspected Omar Al-Rawi.”

Again
Byron agreed.

“Tell
me what happened last night.”

Commander
Wu’s eyes narrowed on Byron in a chilling way. Byron pitied anyone who dared
lie in this man’s presence. He swallowed hard and spoke purposefully so he did
not leave out any details that might be important to Wu. When he finished, the
commander sat still, mouth upside-down in a thoughtful pout, his eyes fixed on
Byron’s forehead in a glazed sort of way.

“You
believe this boy—Omar—attacked your friends?”

“Yes,
sir.”

Wu
nodded as his hands came together, palms touching with his fingertips brushing
his lips. “Curious situation. Why do you suspect Omar?”

“Because
he is a sadist.”

Byron’s
answer made the commander pause. “How do you know?”

“I
attended public school for ten years. I know a bully when I see one, but I also
know people who like to hurt others for the pleasure of it. Omar likes—really
likes—hurting people.”

“You
think he’s willing to do something so unrestrained? That he risks expulsion and
criminal charges to satisfy his urges?”

“Yes,
sir.”

“I
gave you four commandments when I brought you here,” Wu stated, now staring
directly into Byron’s eyes. “Do you remember?”

Byron
cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “Do not use my ability in front of
anyone. Do not tell anyone my age. Have fun. Act like an Elite.”

“Have
you obeyed those two
Do Not
rules?”

A
tickle of discomfort ran down Byron’s back as he remembered the consequences of
breaking those rules. His brain told him to lie to Wu, but his conscience
wouldn’t let him. Somewhere deep down in his gut, he knew lying would not help
him in this situation.

“No
… sir. I have not.” He broke eye contact with the commander and stared at the carpet.
“I am sorry.”

“Which
did you break?”

“Er,
both of them, sir.”

“You
risked expulsion for this?”

“I—I—I
guess I did, sir. I have not openly displayed my ability, but I did use it, in
a moment of irrational thought, in front of others. No one noticed what I did.
And on my birthday, when I was feeling homesick, I told a friend my true age. I
regret both of my actions.”

“So
you and mysterious attacker have something in common, you see? Both of you
willing to risk dismissal due to compulsions.”

“I—I
guess so.” A cold sensation crept into Byron’s gut. “But—but you do not think
that I am the one—”

Commander
Wu shook his head. Relief washed over Byron like a warm bath.

“Thank
you, sir. I would like to help in any way I can.”

“I
am personally in charge of investigation, and I do not need help or
interference. Tell your friends not to do anything stupid, Byron.”

“Yes,
sir.”

“You
practice your ability?”

“Not
often, sir. My time is limited and I am rarely alone to do so.”

“Stupid.
How will you improve if you do not practice?”

“If
you want me to, I will. It would be nice if I had someone to confide in.
Someone who can assist me.”

Commander
Wu put his fingers back over his lips, and his eyes returned to Byron’s
forehead. Gradually he began to nod. “Yes. Is your roommate trustworthy?”

“I
trust no one more than Trapper.”

“You
may tell him. It will be difficult to practice in private if he doesn’t know.”
Wu paused, deep in thought. “And your combat instructor. No one else. Do not
expose yourself again, or I will be less forgiving. Understand?”

“Yes,
sir. If I may ask, are the two issues related?”

“Which?”

“The
attack on my friends and your sudden interest in the development of my
abilities.”

Commander
Wu dropped his hands back to his desk and began to work at his computer. “You
really need me to answer that question?”

Byron
watched him for several seconds, waiting to see if they had more to discuss.
However, the commander did not seem to notice him anymore. After a full minute
of silence, Byron braved standing up.

“Shall
I—?”

“Yes.”

That
evening at dinner, Otto and Emerald pressed for details on Byron’s meeting with
Wu. Byron had a hard time concentrating on the discussion because he was
watching Omar and Diego. Already rumors had begun spreading around the ETC. At
least a dozen students had stopped Byron to inquire about last night’s events
in the dojo. Every one of them specifically asked if Omar was the culprit. And
even now, the group around Omar’s table behaved less jovially than normal.

“Kkksssh,
this is Elite Flight Tower.” Otto’s hands cupped his mouth to sound like a
voice coming through a speaker. “Officer Byron, do you copy?”

“Xian
does that way better than you,” Emerald told Otto. “No offense.”

Otto
shot her an annoyed look; Emerald responded with her glare of death.

“Huh?
What?” Byron asked.

“Give
us your theory,” Emerald said.

Byron
stirred his soup and blew on it. “All I can say is what I overheard Diego and
Omar saying. Other than that.… ”

“But
you still think—” Otto began.

“Of
course I think it was Omar.”

“Dude
is a total jackhole,” Otto said. “Diego, too. All of them are.”

“Hey,
look!” Emerald exclaimed. “Trapper’s coming!”

Byron
turned to see Trapper make his way carefully through the tables toward them.
Dozens of other students took notice of his face and stared. Half of it was
almost normal, a few cuts and minor bruising, but the right side was obscenely
swollen, the eye completely shut, and the skin bluish-black. Omar and Diego
studied him with narrowed eyes, then muttered something to each other. Byron
watched Omar’s lips to try and figure out what was being said, but all he
caught was, “he’s fine.”

“Hey.”
Trapper sat next to Byron. “How’s the food this evening?” His lisp sounded
worse than ever with his face so swollen.

“Like
over-tenderized raw hamburger,” Otto said, grinning. “Good to have a member of
Team Oddball back.”

Trapper
tried to smile, but it looked more like he was puffing his cheeks out. “Before
you guys start pounding me with questions, let me just say that I don’t know
what happened. All of a sudden the room got really dark and someone jumped us.
Speaking of which, how’s Xian?”