Dark Genesis: The Birth of the Psi Corps (6 page)

Light didn’t bleed on the Moon, of course, so he could see only just where the spotlight shone. He broadened the beam. There was Alice, slowly standing up, looking unsure. There was Hans, crumpled on the ground, one leg obviously sporting several more joints then it had had when last Lee saw him. Something in Hans’ hand made a little red spark, and Alice sprawled comically backward. Then the hand sparked at him.

Hans was maybe ten feet away. Lee turned off the light, waited for the next silent spark of gunfire and leapt. The fall and the broken leg had made Hans as weak as a kitten. Lee got the gun away and shot him. Dumb bastard. In his mining suit, he probably massed four hundred pounds, and he had jumped after Lee. People always thought they were supermen in low-g. Alice was thrashing, trying to get a patch over the hole in her suit. Hans had hit her in the arm. As Lee approached, her movements grew more feeble. In the light, he could see her face clearly-she couldn’t see his at all. She might not even know it was him. He considered. Her nose was starting to bleed. She looked desperate , angry, young. And she knew something she shouldn’t know. He hesitated an instant longer, as her eyes rolled back. Sighing, he bent, finished patching her suit, and then went to Hans to get his air supply.

To his surprise, he found that Hans was still alive, big finger jammed into the bullet wound, blood frozen around it like a gasket. He looked up wildly at the light, lips moving , either cursing or begging. Lee detached the cylinders and opened the suit to space. He turned away rather than watch the rather messy thing that happened to Hans then. After that, he moved as if in a dream just like before, when the dome cracked. He walked until he found one of the big mining tractors, drove it to the pod where he thought Piotr and Greta were, and using the vehicle’s plasma torch, blew a hole in the pod’s side. A gale came rushing out, and when it had slowed enough, he went in, found Greta struggling toward a pressure suit, and shot her. Piotr was bleeding from his eyes and mouth, but Lee dragged him into the air lock and pressurized it. The telepath sat, blinking away sanguine tears, shivering uncontrollably.

“Now,” Lee said, using the suit PA. “You and I are gonna have a little chat. If you give me an answer I don’t like, the air lock door goes open. Capische?” The telepath nodded. and they spoke. After a time, Lee got an answer he didn’t like.

“Thank you for saving my life,” Alice Kimbrell said. Her face was bruised from shattered capillaries, but she managed a weak smile.

“Joint effort,” he said. “Once you proved to me that the big fellow wasn’t a telepath-or at most was a very weak one-I knew we had a shot. And you picked up on what I was doin’ fast enough to jump, too.”

“I figured if I didn’t, he would kill me first and then go after you, maybe in a smarter way.”

“Probably right.” He pulled the flowers from behind his back and set them next to her bed. Her eyes widened. “I’m not even going to try to guess what flowers cost you on the Moon.”

“Not nearly enough. I wonder if you can tell me something, though.”

“Of course.”

“I still don’t know why you came to me. Why didn’t you go to Senator Tokash, or someone else?”

Her eyes drooped closed.

“I suppose I ought to confess. When I was a little girl, I had a terrible crush on you. The hero of the Grissom colony. I suppose part of me still needed that hero. You didn’t disappoint.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in a long while.” He paused. “Much as I hate to cash in on hero worship, Dr. Kimbrell , I’d like to see you again. Without the thugs and the secrets and so forth.”

“I think that can be arranged,” she replied, eyes steady on him. Back in his room, Lee opened the link and entered a number. After a few moments, an angry-looking Senator Vladmir Tokash appeared. His thin hair was mussed, and he seemed to be wearing a dressing robe.

“Crawford?” he said. “What possesses you to call me at this hour?”

Lee smiled.

“That’s no way to talk to your best friend, Vlad.”

The senator’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

“What on earth are you talking about? If it’s about the committee-“

“Oh, rest assured, Vlad-it is about the committee. It’s about how you’re gonna withdraw from it. You see, I just had a little talk with a friend of yours-a soul mate, you might say-and he told me quite a lot about you.”

“I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

“Do you have your signal scrambled at your end, Vlad? Because I’ve got some big news.” Tokash nodded. “Good. You see, I’ve got a way to detect telepaths. Turns out there’s a genetic marker. Now things get interesting, don’t they? I’m going to announce it tomorrow. So there’re two ways we can play this, and both involve the Senate being the first ones to get tested. But how the tests get reported-that can make a difference.”

Tokash pursed his lips.

“I see.”

“With me or against me, Vlad? You’ve tried playing against me, and three people are dead as a result. We can be buddies, you and I. How many of our colleagues are telepaths, do you think? Politics probably draw them-after all, half of politics is knowing what the other guy is thinkin’. Now, I personally believe it would be good to have a telepath point of view in the Senate-one and only one-but I’m afraid the voters won’t see it that way. Still, what the voters don’t know won’t hurt ‘em, will it? So. With me or against me, Vlad?”

Tokash put his head in his hands, and then looked back up, tiredly.

“With you, Senator Crawford.”

“Call me Lee. First thing in the morning, I want a list of every telepath you know, most especially those in your employ. They work for me now.”

“Very well.”

“Another thing, just in case you’re still thinking about some sort of stunt. You realize that you are the product of genetic engineering?”

“What?”

“The genetic analysis makes it pretty obvious. I think it’s best that that news not be made public, don’t you?”

“Good God, yes.”

“See? We think alike. Together, I think we can keep this little fact from getting out-that we can identify telepaths is one thing. How we do it is best kept a question of global security, one best controlled by the Committee on Metasensory Regulation. So while you won’t be head, I’d of course like to have you as my right-hand man.” He grinned. “Right where I can see you, that is. “And get some rest, Vlad-you look like hell.”

CHAPTER 4

Publishers Weekly, 6 February 2117 In Senate hearings today, a spokesperson for Random House, Inc., alleged that telepathic literary agents may have done “incalculable damage” to the publishing industry as a whole, urging immediate genetic testing of all licensed and aspiring agents, with stiff penalties for offenders. Overseeing the Committee on Metasensory Regulation, Senator Lee Crawford said, “The implications are clear, and we appreciate the thoughtful testimony from all involved. This matter must be handled with intelligence and sensitivity, but hopefully not until we’re done negotiating the advance for my biography.” The senator later explained that this last was “just a joke.”

The Boston Globe, 21 May 2117 Thana Neesom of Perth, Australia, today filed suit against her dentist, Graham McKay, D.D.S., for invasion of privacy. McKay-recently identified as a telepath–indignantly denied the allegation that he had “picked Neesom’s bloody brains” while the plaintiff was under general anesthesia for root canal surgery.

Weekly World News, 15 June 2117 THEY WEREN’T ALONE IN BEDI Ladies, take warning! A young woman from Manchester, U.K. (at her request we withhold her name), recently experienced what might be the worst first date in history-at the hands-and we do mean “hands”-of telepaths. A model student and virgin, Georgia (not her real name) celebrated her twenty-first birthday with some friends at a local nightspot. Noticing that she had drawn the attention of a handsome young man, her girlfriends urged her to break her long bedroom fast. Encouraged by strong drink, the young woman relented to peer pressure and at the end of the night found herself in the young man’s apartment. All seemed to be going well, when-at that tenderest of moments—she heard lascivious groans, moans, and even applause from the next room. On peeking through the bedroom door, she discovered five men and women, whose applause doubled when they saw her. To her horror, she realized that they–and the young man she had been with—were all telepaths, and had all taken part in her sexual initiation, seeing and feeling all in intimate, graphic detail . She had been the victim of a telepathic gang rape!

Lee sat back in the uncomfortable chair and watched the monitor . DiPeso was just starting his monologue, draped across an antique couch and twirling a martini glass.

” … so he says, how does a telepath feed a dog? And I said, pretty well, if you grind him up fine enough.” He sipped his martini languidly as the crowd howled. There were a few boos, but they were of the “what a bad joke” variety.

“Oh, come on,” DiPeso said, rolling his eyes at the audience. “My ex-wife was a telepath-when I wanted sex she gave me the headache. “Anyway, we have a great big show for you tonight. We’ve got Anna Keck, here to talk about her most recent movie, Arkansas Traveler. Kuan Ping is going to play you his hit song `Zoomorphia ,’ and basketball great Joel Transom will tell us all about slam dunks and sex—or is that redundant?-on the Moon. “But first, we’ll have a word with Senator Lee Crawford, hero of the Grissom colony and head of the Committee on Metasensory Regulation. ” He paused and lifted his martini again, cocking his head thoughtfully. “You know, it’s been said that the senator never met a censoring he didn’t like-but we’ll ask him about that in just a minute, after a few words from your local-“

“Senator, you’re on in three,” a sprightly young woman in a bellhop uniform informed him.

“So I am,” Lee said, straightening his collar. The chairs onstage were uncomfortable, too, and Lee had to repress an urge to reach over and tweak DiPeso’s ample nose-or better yet, punch it. Despite … all that, he grinned and extended his hand.

“Well, Senator. You’ve been quite the man in the news lately. Let me start with the question that surely is preying on all of our minds. Considering that you and your committee control the fates of hundreds of people-and knowing how careful you boys in Geneva are about abusing your power-well, what is sex like with a telepath?”

“Well,” Lee drawled, “I can’t comment on that personally, but my experts tell me it would be a lot like being interviewed by you.”

“How’s that, Senator-a sort of cosmic experience?”

“Not exactly. More like doing all of the work while the other person has twice the fun.”

“Ho-well, there’s an image!” DiPeso said. “And not a pleasant one for our audience, either. Now, seriously. How is this Metasensory thing going?”

“Pretty well, now that we can identify telepaths-“

“Not all of them, though.”

“No, but up to about seventy percent of them can be identified through a brief medical exam. This is a substantial number-and a high percentage of others come forth voluntarily.”

DiPeso put on his “serious face.”

“Well, that’s pretty good, isn’t it? But are you saying that you can’t protect us from that other thirty percent?”

Lee rubbed his hands together.

“Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to meet a few of these people I’m `protecting’ you from.”

DiPeso’s face showed a hint of dismay before he managed to cover it with an “oh, really?” expression.

“Well, I’m sure that if they’re with you, I’ve nothing to worry about. Bring ‘em out. But folks, repeat after me—’ He then began rubbing his temples and murmuring, “Ibink clean thoughts-think clean thoughts—no thoughts about Anna Keck-“

The audience was laughing, booing, and ribbing its collective temples as the five telepaths came out. But a hush settled when they saw the first two. DiPeso was the first to recover.

“Anna, sweetie, you’re jumping the gun a little. Your segment

“It’s right now, dear,” Anna replied

In early middle age, Anna Keck still had the same grace and quiet sensuality that had made her, first, the world’s sweetheart, and then, one of its most respected actresses.

“I’ve been on your shoves-what is it, thirty times now-,end never really had anything important to say. Now I do.”

For perhaps the first time in front of an audience, DiPeso was clearly flabbergasted. He actually stuttered.

“Are-are you saying-” Lee stood up and let her have his seat.

Anna took it, swept back her luxuriant black hair, and gave DiPeso a little kiss on the cheek.

“Just keep thinking those clean thoughts, dear.”

“Good Lord o’mighty!” DiPeso said, recovering. “It’s a miracle you haven’t slapped me thirty times by now. You’ve been—this whole time?”

She shrugged and smiled at the audience.

“I didn’t know until I took the new screening test. I always knew I was good at understanding people—at knowing how they felt-but I’ve never heard words or anything. Most telepaths can’t, really-it’s a false stereotype. I can’t read your mind, Alex.”

“Well, thank Buddha for small favors. Whew. ‘Cause I’m sure there must be some sort of law. Well, this is-‘

‘This isn’t about me,” Anna interrupted “We still have a segment for that, right? Because I do want to talk about Arkansas Traveler. But first I’d like to let the senator introduce everyone else.”

“Well, by all means—but I think I know this young man,” he said, gesturing at the twenty-something fellow with the Apollonian profile. “Aren’t you that fireman … T,

Lee clapped the young man on the shoulder.

‘This is Guy Guillory . Most of your viewers will remember him as the young man who saved thirty people in the San Francisco earthquake last year. Guy came to us voluntarily when-well, I’ll get to that in a moment . Guy’s telepathic ability enabled him to find those trapped on the collapsed sixth floor of Trombles. I might add that Guy is just now able to walk again-his body was covered with third-degree burns on his fifth trip in, two trips after the building caught fire.”

Guy nodded nervously. Lee patted him on the back and moved down the line to a slight blonde with a pleasant, but not beautiful, face-the girl next door, the kid sister.