Dark Genesis: The Birth of the Psi Corps (21 page)

She frowned.

“I can’t control him, if that’s what you mean.”

He shook his head.

“No. The toxin will wear off fast, but when he comes out of it he’ll be confused. If he wakes up with a strong urge to transfer idents-maybe to someone he thinks is one of his Hounds, because he’s sick or injured, maybe dying-“

“Yes.” She shook her head vigorously. “1 think-yes, I think I can do that.”

“You do it while I take care of the guards.” He paused, looking at Matthew. “Who’s he?”

“He’s going with us.”

“Look at him, Fiona-he’ll be deadweight. What’s going on here?”

“He’s going with us, or I don’t do this.”

“Damn it—’ He blew out a breath. “Fine. That means we have to carry two people out to the chopper undetected.”

“I carried you, remember? I can carry Matthew.”

TealMontoya was beginning to stir as Stephen pushed him into the pilot’s seat. A commotion had also begun at the other end of the camp.

“They’ve noticed I’m gone.” Stephen gritted his teeth.

“Get him in.” She heaved Matthew into the backseat less gently than she meant to.

“Okay.”

“Get in.” They closed the doors and sat in the cabin, each with a pistol, as they watched dark figures moving back and forth across the square. After a moment, bright lights snapped on, flooding the entire compound.

“C’mon, wake up,” Fiona said, patting TealMontoya’s face. Then, when that failed to produce results, she slapped him. His eyes slitted open. “You’re hurt, sir,” she hissed. “Remember? They shot you? We have to get you to a medic. But I can’t fly your chopper.” She had deep scanned him, found an old incident in which he had been wounded, doctored it. There had been no helicopter or transfer of bioident that time, but he had to stay confused only for a moment Steve tapped her on the shoulder. From the corner of her eye, Fiona noticed two guards entering the building they had just left. “Sir, hurry. You’re bleeding.”

“Ah. Yes.” He groaned weakly. “Computer-transfer bioident and voice recognition from Joseph TealMontoya, 49-156667349—to-what was your name?”

“Lenya Kolkin, 60-234637586,” Fiona said. One of her aliases, hopefully one that was still active. The door to the house banged back open, and two men came out, both with rifles, looking around wildly. TealMontoya was looking at her oddly.

“Do I know you?”

“Hung, sir!”

“Is your hand on the plate?”

“Yessir.”

“Car, transfer. Go.” He looked at her again. “I do know you, don’t IT’

Stephen hit him in the jaw with a right cross-the Psi Cop gagged and slammed against the window. Fiona scrambled over his body, grabbing at the controls.

“You were supposed to transfer it to me,” Stephen hissed. “Tough. Hang on.”

“You know how to fly one of these?”

“I’m about to learn. If you have any tips …”

If Stephen had any, they stayed in him, bottled there by the sudden g-force as quick jump ground effect jets kicked them straight up, away, to freedom.

CHAPTER 8

Kevin closed his eyes against the nightmare that had battered its way through his blocks. It was an unfamiliar experience, shocking . No one had ever gotten in there, behind his mask. Nor did he want them there. The force was clearer to him now. This wasn’t one very strong mind, but many weaker ones bound together. And yet not entirely together; their gestalt was like an octopus, separate tendrils supporting one another, working in unison to pry him and the others apart. Their monstrous forms were, of course, illusion. He took his own mind from its box, a keen, razor-edged saber, a sleek and deadly thing. He cut in small slices at fast, but with precision, one tentacle at a time. Panic. They hadn’t considered him a threat-hadn’t been able to see, even, that he was a teep. It was his mother’s parting gift, this invisibility. Whick, whick-snicker-snack They fell away, but his mind was starting to ache, like a muscle clenched too tightly for too long.

One of the Psi Cops shook loose, saw what was happening, and his pistol barked. The priest went down. Again, and what remained of the octopus flew apart, worms wriggling away, trying to burrow into the earth. In a few minutes it was over; those who were not dead had surrendered. Kevin surveyed them. No longer monsters, they were old men and women, children.

“As I said,” he breathed. trying not to sound weak, “search the cave.” Something sweet touched his lips.

“Sir!” Natasha whispered. His nose was bleeding, and he was weeping tears of blood. “Sir, I didn’t know-“

“I did not intend for you to know, Ms. Alexander. Or anyone else for that matter. If the normals ever discover that the director of Psi Corps is a telepath…”

“Yes, sir. No one will know, sir.”

He nodded wearily.

“It’s our destiny, not theirs, Ms. Alexander. Never forget that.”

“I never will, sir.”

“This is all we found, sir.” It was like metal, smooth and hard, but with a faint shimmering and shifting that was not like metal at all. He recognized it instantly as being like the artifacts from Mars. When he touched it, he felt a vague shock, and for an instant he was back in the storm of his mother’s death, staring up at the Shalako in fear and wonderment. He handed the small shard back to Natasha, watching for a reaction . If she felt anything, she did not show it.

“It was on the altar, sir. There was no sign of any equipment that might have been used to manipulate genes.”

“They subradared the whole place?”

“Yes, sir. Nothing.”

“Well. For the moment, at least, we seem to have reached a dead end. There are more sites like this?”

“A few.”

“Check them out. Take more people this time, and if the places have guardians, take no chances. Use gas or nerve collapsers. There are questions I want answers to.”

CHAPTER 9

It took him a good long while to stop gritting his teeth. Fiona was managing the chopper pretty well for someone who had never flown one-which was to say that every moment he spent looking at the windows sent his life flashing before his eyes. So he concentrated on other things. Binding and gagging TealMontoya , for instance. He uplinked long enough to get a fix on their location and a map of the area, then cut the satellite link, after which he methodically shut off anything else which might help Psi Corps, local cops, or anyone else following them. Fiona made exactly one call on the local link, spoke in what sounded like gibberish for ten seconds or so, and then let him shut it down, too. Half an hour later, she landed the craft in a small clearing next to a lake.

“We get out here,” she said. “In the jungle?”

“Yes.”

“What about the Psi Cop?” In answer, she opened the door and dumped the now-conscious Psi Cop onto the ground. He lay there, glaring at them. Fiona ignored that, ran to the back door, and opened it.

“Matthew?” he heard her say. “How is he?”

Stephen asked, scanning the surrounding jungle. TealMontoya’s gun felt good in his hand. “Still unconscious.”

“He’s got a pulse, though.”

“Yes,” she snapped, a little irritably.

“Listen,” he said, “not that I want any thanks, or anything …”

She softened.

“I’m sorry, Stephen. I’m just worried about him. That was-what you did back there was wonderful. You saved me from something very unpleasant, and I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you.” She smiled, and it was a very nice smile. She held out her hand, and he took it, felt the tingle of her gratitude.

“We make a good team,” he managed, wondering why the words sounded so thick and dumb in his throat.

“Of course, I’m fresh out of plans, now.”

“Don’t worry about that. I think I can pick up the ball for a while.” She cocked her head winsomely. “You’ll have to explain about the nerve toxin someday.”

“Oh. I was a chemist, hard as that may be to believe, and I worked for a pharmaceutical company. Cobra venom is a nerve toxin, and with that and a few handy prison-camp supplies you can make some pretty interesting things.”

“Apparently so.” He liked the sound of her admiration. Too bad about the half-truth-he had studied chemistry, and had even made the nerve toxin, but with items Vacit had had smuggled to him. Oh, well-praise based on false accomplishments was better than no praise at all.

“So,” he asked. “What now?”

“Now? Now I would suggest lowering your pistol, at least for the moment.” Stephen followed her gaze, and realized he was staring down the barrel of a rifle. All around him, the forest whispered as a small army appeared. “Stephen Walters, I want you to meet Helang” Helang was a small man with the quick black eyes of a predatory bird. Like the rest of his twenty-some-odd people, he wore camouflage.

“I don’t know you,” Helang said.

“He helped me escape,” Fiona said.

“I vouch for him.” Helang considered for another moment or two, then nodded briskly. “This way, then.” He motioned out into the forest.

“What about the chopper?” Stephen protested.

“We’ll take care of that,” Helang replied.

“You’ll ditch it?”

“No, Mr. Walters. We’ll use it. But first we will lead your pursuers on a merry chase.”

“What about the Psi Cop?”

“Don’t worry about him, either,” Helang said, his smile a little nasty.

Stephen glanced at TealMontoya. Serves you right, you son of a bitch, he thought. I wanted to snap your neck myself when-He suddenly realized that he might be sending and cut himself off. Fiona didn’t seem to have noticed, anyway-she had turned to Helang and begun chatting in a language he didn’t know. I’m just along for the ride, now, he reminded himself.

They followed a trail through the jungle for a few hundred feet, two of Helang’s men carrying Matthew. They came to the bank of a river, where several very long canoes were tied up. The unconscious Matthew went in one, between the two men who were carrying him. Fiona, three of Helang’s men, and he crowded into another. Someone handed him a paddle.

“We’re going to paddle? Paddle away from Psi Cops with helicopters?”

“Paddles don’t leave chemical trails or send out EM pulses or even generate heat,” Fiona pointed out. “And the canopy will keep us from visual sightings from the air. Have a little faith, Stephen. We’ll be using faster transportation soon enough.”

“What now?” he asked, about an hour later as they put in at a small kampung. Fiona got out of her canoe and went to check on Matthew, and Stephen followed.

“There’s a link here,” she explained. “They’re just checking in to see where the cops are-where it is and isn’t safe to go.”

“Who the hell are these guys?”

“They call themselves the Orang Ash,” she said. “It’s an old term for the aboriginal people.”

“Some of these guys don’t look aboriginal to me. That one’s blond.”

Fiona nodded, wiping Matthew’s face with a damp rag.

“It’s just a name. They have different backgrounds.”

“But they aren’t telepaths.”

“No. They’re revolutionaries, of a sort, mostly refugees from Sarawak and Kalimantan. The Indonesian Consortium forcibly resettled them here back in the thirties, when they controlled Malaysia. They want their homeland back.”

“And this has what to do with us?” Stephen asked.

“The telepath underground has worked with them before,” Fiona said. “We supply them with our special kind of information; they help us move people along the underground railroad in this part of the world.”

“Whoa. `We’ve worked with them before’? Underground railroad ? What have I fallen into, here?”

“Welcome to the resistance, Stephen.” She considered for a moment. “You have two choices now. I can do my best to get you away from here-to somewhere safe. Change your identity, have some fake test results forged. Or-” She turned her gaze on him. “We need people like you, Stephen.” He had known the offer would come, of course-it was what Vacit had counted on-but somehow it was still a jolt. Fiona was sincere, fiercely so, and though she wasn’t trying to broadcast, her passion leaked.

“I’ll-ah-can I think about it?”

“Of course.”

Helang came back and squatted down near them.

“Problem.” he said. “The usual connection in Singapore won’t fly. In a week or so, maybe-“

“In a week or so, they’ll find us.”

A little cough interrupted them, and they turned to see that Matthew had opened his eyes. They were fixed on Fiona, as if she were the only thing he could see, but he spoke to all of them.

“I know another way,” he said. “At least, I think I do.”

A giant opened the door. His ebony features swayed over them for an instant before a huge grin nearly bisected them.

“Brother Matthew!”

Matthew clasped the giant in a hug, then held him at arm’s length.

“Still growing, I see!” he said.

“Only in my heart, I hope. The beds here are too short for me as it is.” A frown crossed his features. “We thought you had been taken.”

“I was. Brother Justin, please meet Fiona Temple and Stephen Walters, my earthly saviors.”

Fiona found herself gaping at the whole exchange, as she took in the giant’s brown robes, the crucifix and rosary about his long neck.

“You-you’re a priest?” she asked Matthew.

Matthew placed a hand on her shoulder.

“No. I was a monk, for a time, here. But–’

“But Brother Matthew was not content to let trouble come to him,” Justin finished. “He would rather go into the world and find trouble. And bring it here, apparently. Please, all of you, be welcome .” He made the sign of the cross, and they stepped into what seemed a limestone cathedral.

It was a natural cave, or mostly natural. They had climbed for almost two hours up the steep side of a sort of mesa before finding the little door-still some two hundred feet or so short of the top. They could see out the top, now-a shaft of sunlight speared into the chamber from a natural opening above, its light falling near an altar.

“You know why I came here?” Matthew asked. “I hate to put the order in danger, but-“

“But you have need of us. I understand, Matthew.” Another monk approached them, this one considerably shorter than Brother Justin. Older, too. He had a round, pleasant face.