Hybrid (13 page)

“It matters,” Mathur says slowly, “because what if your sacrifice does not work? What if the kernel is damaged and I require another? What if I no longer have you to model the repairs of the others after? Do not be foolish just to be a savior.”

For a moment it looks like Dom will retaliate, but he unfolds his arms and steps back, eyes bleeding back to silver. He nods his head once, curtly. “I understand.”

“Good.” Mason takes over, interjecting himself between the Mathur and Dom stare-down. “We need a plan to take down a full group. We’re running out of time. Any ideas?”

Dom speaks up, his eyes avoiding everyone else’s. “I bought us a few more days’ time.”

Mason raises an eyebrow. “How’d you manage that?”

“I have my ways.”

“Then we have maybe five days to gather up the rest of the nomads, decide on a dispersal pattern for the Mobiles, and figure out how to beat the super-human non-humans.” Mason’s cheeks have regained their gaunt worry, and his shoulders are back in their slump.

He was so strong when she met him, almost formidable. Suddenly, Sai needs to get away from the planning of a war, of more death at her hands. “If you’ve no longer a need for me, I really need to get back to training.”

Mathur’s tone is gentle. “I would appreciate it if you could figure out with Mason how to go about dividing the nomads onto our available Mobiles. We are also going to have to cease production on the others, shelter them, and steer the Damascus away from their construction base. We will have to relieve the teams and give them a home base as well. There is a lot to plan.”

“Iria can help with that,” Mason offers. “She’s got a lot of experience with the building crews. I’ll talk to her about it.”

Sai nods, her scalp and joints itching oddly with the need to be gone. “Iria will be done with her training shortly. I’ll send her to you.”

Sai glances at the calendar hanging on the wall in her apartment. It’s an affectation Aishke insisted upon. Every date on it is clearly marked. The girl entered everyone’s birthday, every important meeting, and put a big target on the expected day of all hell breaking loose.

“Two more days,” she mutters, draining the box she’s drinking of its sorry excuse for orange juice. The label announces loud and clear it’s a synthesized product meant to simulate the true effects. She can only hope it has at least has some of the nutritional value it claims. It might be better not to know where the vendors in the shopping area get their wares.

The target on the calendar looms in front of her. Almost like it’s mocking and taunting her. Aishke isn’t home. Sai is proud of her. It’s unfair that she’s a harmer, given her gentle personality. She’s out training harder and harder each day. They all are. At least everyone has rudimentary training now.

The knock at the door startles her, and she whirls around. It’s not ajar as it usually is when Aishke is home, so she has to physically open it.

Dom stands on the threshold, looking away from the entrance at the vendor’s circle beyond.

“What do you want?” she asks, perhaps sharper than originally intended, causing him to turn around and raise an eyebrow.

“I was hoping we might talk.” Dom steps into the room with a frown on his face. His eyes still aren’t back to their clear silver. Red lingers in them, fragmented, giving his gaze an eerie hue. “I didn’t figure you to be a pink person,” he says softly, indicating the pretty hearts and things scattered here and there on the walls and the cushions on the couch.

“I’m not.” Sai shrugs and moves back to let him past. “But I’m also not the only person who lives here.”

“True.” He cocks his head to the side, studying her.

“What did you want to talk about?” She sits down and pulls one of the pink heart cushions onto her lap, glancing at her wrist at the same time. About an hour to spare if she pushes it, which she will because she always does. And right now, with him finally here and no real sense of urgency, she really wants to.

For a few seconds, she’s not sure if he’s going to take a seat across from her or else tell her never mind and exit the apartment. His expression wars with itself, but finally something wins and he seats himself on the other couch, elbows on his knees.

“I wanted to talk about us.” There’s no inflection in his voice, and he doesn’t raise his eyes to look at her.

She can’t even guess at what he wants, at what he feels. They’re the words she’s been dreading since waking six weeks ago. They make her gut churn. She stares at him, unsure how to respond, unsure how to tell him that she should have approached him instead.

“You’re not ready yet, I see.” For a few seconds he watches his hands. “Mathur said you might not be, that it might be too early. I just...”

He moves to stand up, but she reaches out, fingers brushing against his thigh. “It’s not that. It’s not even you anymore. It’s that... I’m not sure who to blame or if there’s blame on anyone but the GNW or, really, myself. I know this in my head and I know it in my heart, but there’s something stopping me from fully accepting it.” The words come out almost jumbled, rushed. Her face flushes and it’s suddenly very warm in her small apartment, too small for the both of them. She wipes away the stray tear rolling down her face with annoyance. “Damn it, this shouldn’t be so hard.”

Dom finally meets her gaze, the red in his eyes receding to the back. “Yes, it should. You lost both legs. You went through the reattachment process almost immediately afterward and have had no time to adjust properly. You’ve been forced to speed your recovery with this...war around the corner. You have every reason to find this hard. To adjust, to accept, and to forgive.”

She smiles at him, tears brimming even as she wills them to stop. “No one else says that. Everyone just expects me to adapt.” She pauses and focuses on him. “Damn it, I miss you.” She spreads her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I want it to be that easy, but sometimes it’s just not. There are things I want to make myself feel, and I can’t let go. Not yet.”

He shakes his head, a subtle ripple vibrating his form for a second. “I don’t quite understand, but I can sympathize. There’s nothing more confusing than not knowing how to feel. I battle with that every day.”

Sai truly
looks
at him. “You worry me. There’s something...off about you lately. Different. It’s scary and unpredictable. Nothing like all those times we traveled together. I’ll listen if you want to talk.” She offers it not out of a sense of obligation, but out of the sense of friendship and caring she still has buried a little deeper than she’d like.

“I’m not sure I can be that articulate, even if I want to. I’ve had my own...identity crisis, if you will, to deal with. There are things about myself that were...” He purses his lips for a second, searching for the right word. “So many things were overridden by others due to careless access of my neural pathways. It might be hard for you to understand, but the me you knew was never the whole me. I don’t think you’ll like the whole me. I’m not sure I do.”

“Talk to me?” she offers gently, wanting to know, even though it twists like the same knife of her own elusive redemption. “I won’t judge. I can’t. Nothing you could ever be can have a hair on the things I’ve done. On the amount of people I’ve killed and have to atone for.”

For a few long moments she thinks he’s going to open up and talk to her. His eyes briefly clear through to silver for a second, but then he breaks eye contact and smiles ruefully. Somehow it sits on his face far better than the happy version. “On the contrary, Sai. You had no choice in any of your cases. Even when you think you did have one, you know you truly didn’t. I, on the other hand... I’ve always had a choice, and the instincts that take over are a part of me I’m currently discovering. Maybe I can tell you next time.” He pushes himself to his feet and brushes off imaginary dust, as is his habit.

He smiles down at her, the expression tinged with a sadness Sai isn’t used to seeing from him. “Thank you. For letting me in and talking to me. For reminding me what it was like not so long ago. Sometimes, I think time plays games with us all. I would give almost anything to go back and figure out my faulty channel before everything came to a crunch. We’d be in a different place now.”

Unsure of how to answer him, Sai nods. “We might well be in a different place, Dom, but we can’t know it would be a better one. They would have sent someone else, and that someone would definitely not have saved me. I’d likely not be standing here right now, adrium grafts or not. In a way, perhaps this is a blessing. Learning new things about myself is just icing on the cake.”

Dom nods, the red at bay, the ripples stilled. “It’s a nice way to see things, Sai. Don’t ever lose that.”

She smiles and walks him to the door. “Silver lining, Dom. Every cloud is supposed to have a silver lining.”

He grins, and she cringes internally at the way that expression never seems to fit on his face well enough. “All we need is for the ozone to fix itself and you could have all the clouds you want.”

“Why, Dom, I believe you just cracked a joke.”

He pulls a deadpan face. For a brief moment he looks exactly like the Dom she spent all those months training under and going on assignments with, but when he speaks, it disappears, reverting back to the strange edge he now has, the dangerous one.

“Me, joke? Never.”

She watches as he walks away, wondering just what it is that changed him so much.

“How long ago?” Sai grips the table, trying to control her anxiety. Her chest isn’t listening; instead, it heaves and tries to throttle her. Darkness weaves in and out of her vision until she’s seeing in black and white, or maybe all black. She has to blink to clear it, and even then it’s hovering, waiting. She counts in her head, barely making it to ten before she glances back at Mason for his answer.

“We got Dom’s information about two hours ago. The Damascus were released earlier this morning.” There’s no tone to his voice, like all emotion has disappeared, as if he’s totally given up.

“Damn.” To put it mildly.

“Yeah.” Mason flops down in his chair, dwarfing the back of it. His face has hollows just below the cheekbones, and it reflects in the rest of his gaunt body. “That’s a pretty good summation.”

“We’re not ready at all. We still have one colony of nomads to pick up.”

He shakes his head, shoulders sagging, like it’s an effort. “No, we don’t. Rho will be picking them up. It’s the last Mobile with any room on it anyway.” He glances at his reader and flips through a few of the pages with a frown. “Our best guess is it’s going to take them about five to twelve days to gain our scent and locate us. The former is based on them knowing where we are and heading straight for us. The odds of that are extremely low. So ten days is more likely.”

Sai sits back down, trying to calm herself into rational thought, and flips through her own reader, glancing as the details fly by.

Kayde taps her pen on the table, and for a moment Sai wonders if she actually uses it. “So ten days before one of the scouting groups finds us. By all accounts, they generally travel in separate units to scout but use two to four units when completing objectives. Our adrium netting will help us, but I’m worried they might adapt their visual cortices and adjust it to find us. So if we can find the scouts first, that’d be great.”

“Ten days.” Sai feels a slight stir of hope. “This could be better than we originally anticipated. It means ten more days to prepare a defense.”

“Send out a scouting team.” James is actually present instead of actively training his men for once. Another sign of the gravity of the Damascus release. “We can send out our own detail aimed at finding their scouts and taking them down. If possible, we should aim to retrieve a kernel at that point, too. Not only will we be aware of where they are in the schedule, but we’ll also have a shot at getting that blasted device finished before we might otherwise. A few days head start could mean the world.”

“Or it could simply mean we deplete our forces, give away our approximate position, and lead them straight to us.” Mathur seems to have aged about thirty years in the past five days. His hair is mostly salt now, little pepper to be found.

Sai knows he’s been working tirelessly with Kayde, Jeffries, and Dom to try and get the dominos repaired to the extent that they can function normally. They have around eighty-seven of them. A paltry number compared to the approximately hundred and fifty that were created. They rest had slowly deteriorated, and many were left behind when they sought their asylum with the Exiled and Sai.

“I know what you’re saying, Mathur.” Sai leans forward and rests her hand on his, making eye contact so he knows she means it. “But it might be worth considering. Any opportunity we have to beat them before they can kill us is a chance we have to take, no matter the risks. I’ll go with the team. If nothing else, I can scout them out psionically. Since they’re not susceptible to the gifts, they should show up as an absence of something, which means I can pinpoint them.”

“An absence of something?” A smile tugs at Mathur’s mouth.

She ignores him and continues. “I’ve been researching it and have come to the conclusion that they can be ‘sensed,’ just not actually seen. I realize that sounds confusing...” She tries to think of a different way to phrase it. “If you have protection against being detected, while I can’t detect tell you exactly what’s incoming, I can still tell there is a shielded something on its way. Nothing specific, but I can see an absence. Where there should be vast stretches of land, there will be pockets of nothing.”

Mathur smiles with genuine surprise, if the way his unibrow forms is any indication. “Now that may make things a bit easier.”

“Only a bit, mind you. And another thing...” She takes a deep breath, sure the others have already thought of this. “The sun isn’t going to affect them as much. They’re likely to attack at dawn or close to sundown. It’s something to consider, because I doubt they’re going to attack in the dark when we might have some leverage.”

Sai sits back, suddenly very self-conscious of the sweat on her brow, and waits for their input.

Mason leans forward, his head in his hands. “No idea how that slipped my mind.”

James smiles. “It’s okay. I’ve had Lenlaw working on tweaking the body armor. It won’t do in a full midday sun, but at the moment it should work in the first and last rays of sunlight for the day. Probably about an hour on either end. Hopefully it’ll help, but we’ll still need breathing aids.”

Mason sighs with relief. “That’s why you’re the guy who manages the troops.”

James nods and smiles, patting his reader against his chest.

For the first time that day, Sai feels like there might be some measure of hope for them.

“Now...” Mason looks over at her. “Did I hear you volunteer to go out with a scouting party?”

Sai suppresses a groan. “Yes, I will. As long as James gets me some of that fantastic body armor, too.” She has one of those odd gut feelings she might actually need it.

They discuss a few more logistics, things Sai never really understands. Her focus is always on what she can actually do to help. Psionics, she can do. She’s had more training in her little pinky than most of these guys have had their whole lives. Most of them are just lucky their gifts don’t run to the strength a lot of the people at the training facility had. They’d probably have blown a few people to smithereens if they did.

Sai does an internal check and sends a small shot of healing through her body to assuage her aching joints and belay the headache that stressing her connections is triggering. She brought up all the things she wanted to. The sun issue, the sensing what shouldn’t be there or should. It feels good to contribute but, at the same time, scary considering how much rides on her suggestions and decisions.

She shivers, feeling like the room is suddenly cold, and her forehead breaks out in sweat that has nothing to do with being nervous. “Oh no...” she mutters, suddenly nauseous and dizzy. Something in the back of her mind laughs at her, chiding her for not having listened to Mathur when he told her take it easy.

“But there was so much to do...” She thinks she’s talking out loud, but can’t be entirely sure. Standing doesn’t seem like a good idea, but it’s the only way she’s going to make it to her apartment. She proves herself right as her knees click out of place, crumpling a little.

Someone scoops her up easily, and for a moment, the urge to fight it almost overwhelms her. She’s pretty sure it’s Mason but can’t open her eyes long enough for the world to stop spinning. Leaning in against his chest feels safe and comfortable, and she does her best to maintain her connections lest she lose consciousness and her legs revert to their natural weight. Mathur follows him if his accompanying tirade is anything to go by.

“I told her not to push herself. Adjusting to those grafts is difficult and draining. They run off her own energy, so she needs to get her fitness levels up but not kill herself in the process.” She can hear him sigh and tries to reach out a hand to him

“I’m okay,” she murmurs against Mason’s chest. He has a musty smell, like Bastian. It’s soothing. But his chest feels so frail, so thin. How is he carrying her at all?

“You’re not okay, but you will be. We’ll drop you off so you can sleep until tomorrow. And then everything will look much brighter.”

She struggles against Mason’s hold, but it’s a rather feeble attempt. She clings to consciousness. “I have classes...”

“We’ll cancel those. You’re never going to teach anyone or help anyone if you’re dead now, are you?”

Well, how can she argue with that? Deciding that she should probably listen to those around her, she snuggles into the pillow as Mason places her on her bed and doesn’t remember a thing afterward.

There are so many things wrong with her head when she wakes the next morning that all Sai can do is groan. It hammers and hurts, and her legs don’t seem properly attached anymore, as if she’s losing control of the grafts.

Sai frowns and immediately regrets it. There are days, like right now, she wishes she weren’t so weak. She’s never heard of any of the others needing bed rest or hospitalization.

Her eyes feel heavy and she lets them, frustrated at the pain in her head. Dozing off is the best solution and the only end to pain she can foresee.

When she wakes the second time, she can hear Aishke tiptoeing around in the kitchen.

“It’s okay, Aishke. I’m awake.” Even the sound of the words makes her head pulse, and a darkness falls over her mind like a shadow. This is not going to be a good day. With great effort, she maneuvers herself into a sitting position and leans over to her nightstand to fish out some of the pain medication she was given to go with the grafts. Right now the mental exertion of applying healing through her system would probably backfire and trigger a reaction headache.

Aishke pushes her door open and stands at the entrance, playing with her hands while she waits for Sai to speak.

“I don’t suppose you could get me some water?”

Ash nods and is back several seconds later with a glass. “Are you okay? If you’re hurting, you have to call Kayde and she’ll come and take a look at you. Mathur said your grafts are acting up and will cause severe pain.”

Sai shakes her head and immediately regrets it. “No, it’s my head that’s hurting and hurting something bad.”

Aishke’s face pales. “Exactly. You have grafts in your...brain, too. For that, I need to call Mathur. Don’t move, he’ll be over soon. And don’t take anything yet just in case he doesn’t want you to. It might interfere with something or other.” She vanishes again, only to return about a minute later.

“I have to stay with you,” she says apologetically and perches on the end of the bed. “He said I had to make sure you stayed awake.”

Sai wonders if she should let them know she woke up earlier and went back to sleep. It’s probably relevant. She’ll mention it to Mathur when he...

...walks into the room.

“Wow. That was, like, fast.”

Mathur laughs. “I would pretend it was, but I happened to be having some food close by.”

Sai laughs, ignoring the pain in her head, ignoring the subtle darkness tugging at her, whispering in her mind to tell everyone to get the hell away. “Glad you were close.” She sighs and massages her temples. It hurts so bad she feels like her head is going to explode.

“Until you set out on that scouting mission,” Mathur says, “you need to get eight hours sleep per night. At least. You are having a reactionary headache from the work we did to adjust and add to your brain’s neural pathways. You are still healing. Under normal conditions, anyone else who had undergone this process would have required up to three months’ rest and rehabilitation. While your own ability to heal has helped, you have still had to adapt much faster than you should have.”

He pushes her back down gently and hands her a pain pill to swallow with the water still in her hand. “Now go to sleep again. One day isn’t going to make a huge difference for everyone else’s abilities, but it will for yours. You need to be rested when you set out on your scouting mission, understood?”

“Yes,” she answers softly and closes her eyes, knowing it’s useless to argue, knowing she should probably tell him she woke earlier or even about the strange presence in her head. Maybe not about it; it sounds sort of crazy. “I hate feeling like an invalid.”

“You’re not, Sai. You’ll never be one. I’ve never seen anyone less victim-like than you.” She can feel the smile in his voice.

“Maybe a little more rest isn’t a bad thing.”